“We are. We are friends.”
She shakes her head. “Jonathan won’t talk to me. He’s walked out and I don’t know where he is. He won’t pick up the phone. He told me he couldn’t even look at me right now.”
“Please—”
“He said that if I’d kept such a big secret from him so easily, how could he trust me? How could he claim to know me when he had no idea about such a momentous event in my life?” She looks up at me, her lip quivering. “He was so angry.”
“He’ll understand,” I say gently, attempting to comfort her. “He’ll need time, but he’ll understand. Once he’s calmed down—”
“It’s all your fault,” she spits, her words full of venom. “I’ve lost him and it’s all because of you.” She looks me up and down,repulsed. “There I was, thinking you were a timid wallflower who never put a foot out of place. Who knew you had it in you, eh?”
“You have to listen—you have to believe me,” I say desperately, appealing now to the other members of the family. “I wouldn’t do this to you! I didn’t tell anyone.”
“I don’t think you did it,” Tom says, offering me some hope, and I’m so grateful I could run over and kiss him (although that would definitely make everything worse). “I believe you.”
“Oh, Tom!” Cordelia laughs, throwing her head back. “You’re sostupid.Love really is blind.”
“I know you’re upset, Cordelia,” he says, blushing and holding up his hands as if surrendering to the truth, “but we know Emily. Do you really think she’s capable of this? She’s your bridesmaid!”
“Her name’s not Emily,” Cordelia says coldly, her eyes meeting mine. “Her name is Sophie.”
No. Please don’t do this. Please, not now. Not like this.
“Cordelia,” I warn, but it’s too late.
“She’s not my friend,” Cordelia states. “She’s a professional bridesmaid. Mum hired her to help me organize the wedding. Her name isn’t Emily Taylor, it’s Sophie Breeze. She makes a living pretending to be the best friend of brides who think they need one. Everything you think you know about her is a lie. It’s all completely made up.” She turns to Tom, and twists the knife in as far as possible. “You don’t know her at all. You don’t know anything about her.”
Stunned silence descends upon the sitting room. Tom looks bewildered, and his eyebrows knit in confusion and shock. I’m too scared to speak, frantically seeking the words that will make this better somehow, but coming up with nothing.
Lord Meade straightens. “What? You’re not Emily?”
His wife exhales, her shoulders slumping for the first time ever as she sinks into a chair. I look to her for guidance, but she seems lost, too, a hand placed over her mouth.
“Go on,” Cordelia pushes angrily. “Tell them the truth. Your NDA is void now.”
“No, I’m not Emily,” I eventually manage to say. “My name is Sophie.”
“You werehiredto be a bridesmaid?” Lord Meade asks, aghast at this revelation.
I nod.
“So, you were lying,” Tom says, his voice hollow. “About everything.”
“No, not everything,” I reply, not sure who to direct my justification to.
I want to tell him that the feelings were all real, the great, easy conversation was all real, it was my name and career that wasn’t. But at the same time, I need to get Cordelia to understand that I would never spill her secrets because the friendship wasn’t a lie, either.
“Don’t you think I should have been consulted on this?” Lord Meade asks his wife, looking more puzzled than angry. “I genuinely thought she was a friend of Cordelia’s, and now it turns out it was a complete stranger that I invited to my house.”
“I thought Cordelia needed the support, Nicholas,” Lady Meade replies wearily, waving her hand, not prepared to go into detail. “Sophie is a professional—she does this sort of thing all the time. We did a full background check and she signed an NDA.”
Bloody hell. That’s the first time I’ve heard about the background check. I’m not sure why I’m surprised: of course a family as prominent as this one would need to check up on someone before they let them into their inner circle, but still, I feel irritated by it. Annoyed that they didn’t trust me right from the off. I could have told them anything they needed to know. I think I give off the vibe of a very sensible, trustworthy person.
Although, from the current situation, clearly I’m wrong.
“I appreciate that this is all a lot to take in,” I begin, glancing to Tom, who has gone from shocked to furious, his jaw clenched as he stares at the carpet as though he’s trying to burn a hole right through it. “But the most important thing for you all to know is that I did not leak this story. Cordelia,I didn’t leak this story.I haven’t told a soul. No one. Whoever did this, it wasn’t me.”
I look her right in the eye, willing her to believe me. And it’s there, I can see it in her face: shewantsto believe me. There’s a flash of doubt, a tiny flicker of puzzlement as she wonders who else it could have been. But the timing fits and her previous experience of an untrustworthy friend wins out.
