Page 1 of Hearts on the Line

Chapter 1

Sloane

Today, on what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I’m hit with yet another reminder that I’m my mother’s biggest disappointment.

She’s pacing behind me in the bridal suite, cursing out the wedding planner over the phone. Apparently, there was a contract promising snacks, and there are none.

“Are you okay?” Lisa, the hair and makeup artist, leans over to whisper in my ear.

She doesn’t buy my stiff nod and slowly spins my chair, stepping between me and my mother.

It’s a small wedding.

For Newport in July.

Two hundred guests are milling outside the tennis club right now, waiting for Jimmy Arden’s daughter to marry the prodigal forward of the New York Monarchs. The grounds are vividly green and perfectly manicured. The most magical golden glow of a late summer afternoon washes over everything. But there are too many eyes, too many expectations.

I drag in a breath as dread rolls over me again in another miserable wave.

“Smile,” my mother hisses at me, peeking out from behind the curtains to view the courtyard below.

I wince when the camera flash goes off. I blink a few times, staring at the dated landscape on the wall.

“Can you give us a minute?” Lisa asks the photographer and her team of assistants. They’re scurrying over the floor, trying to rearrange my dress.

I don’t know Lisa. But I think I like her.

Maybe I should marry her.

“I’m paying enough for the team of photographers, Sloane,” my mother snaps from behind me. She has never performed well under pressure. “You insisted on documentary style⁠—”

Jason’s sister, Amanda, is my only bridesmaid. She’s in the corner wearing her old-money blue silk dress. I say “old money” because it reminds me of all the blue hydrangeas that dot the faded shingle homes and businesses along the coast of New England.

Considering her brother, my soon-to-be husband, is sleeping with his ex-girlfriend, we’re not on the best of terms right now. But my mother didn’t want to make a fuss. Her words, not mine.

Meanwhile, I’m frozen in my chair as Lisa uses the entire bottle of hairspray to glue my hair flat to my head.

She flashes me a satisfied grin in the mirror.

“That should hold.”

That’s kind of the theme of the day—hold it together. Let’s pretend I didn’t find Jason hiding out in the bathroom last night at our rehearsal dinner with his ex-girlfriend, who was hysterically sobbing that she was two months pregnant with his baby.

I have to hold it together. I’m the one. Me.

“Champagne!” Lauren, the wedding planner, breezes through the suite’s door after a quick knock. “That’s what we need right now.”

No, I don’t want a drop of alcohol right now. As it is, Lisa has tried her best to perform makeup magic, but it’s clear I’ve been crying. I don’t think I’ve stopped since last night, honestly.

She grips me by the shoulders and smiles. “Only another hour to go.” I hate her shrill, singsongy voice. “You must be so excited.”

Amanda scoffs behind me, glued to her phone. I hear the ping of another text and her frantic reply.

“Well?” Lauren asks. “Are you?” The forced cheer plummets from her face. She adjusts a knob of the walkie-talkie on her hip, waiting for my answer.

My mother stands behind me in the mirror, twirling her pearl earring in her left ear, then tucks away a piece of blonde hair.

It’s her tell that she’s had enough.