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I joined him next to the cake. Mazie handed me the cake knife. “Go ahead and slice into it, Daphne. Brad, put your hand over hers.”
The photographer clicked in our faces as we sliced a piece of the white cake with raspberry filling.
We fed each other a small bite to thundering applause and then walked back to our seats while the caterers cut and served.
My belly churned—and not just from pregnancy nausea.
Worry consumed me. Patty was right. Sean hadn’t drunk a lot, so something else was going on. But what?
I wandered inside the house after everyone was served. I needed some time alone. I walked past the bustling servers in the kitchen to my guest room.
I was Mrs. Bradford Steel now, and this was my home.
Surreal.
I patted my tummy. I’ll make it through, little dove. I swear to you.
I jerked when someone knocked softly. “Yeah?” I said.
Patty opened the door, followed by Ennis.
“Are you okay, Daph?” she asked.
I nodded. Sort of.
“Sorry, love,” Ennis said. “We’re not convinced.”
“I’m married to the man I love. But I’m so worried.”
“We are too,” Patty said. “I’ve never seen Sean like that.”
“Brad said his dad will call when there’s any news. Leave it to me to have a wedding like this.” I sighed.
“What do you mean?” Patty asked.
I’d said too much. Patty and Ennis, though they were my closest friends at school, didn’t know anything about my junior year of high school or about my mother’s suicide attempt. Now wasn’t exactly the optimal time to fill them in. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions.
Right?
What a mess.
Brad appeared in the doorway then, his face somber.
“Everyone’s leaving,” he said.
“Have you heard anything?” Patty asked.
“No, not yet. Once everyone’s gone, I’m heading to the hospital.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said.
“No, baby. You stay here with my mom and your parents. Get the rest you need. There’s nothing you can do there anyway.”
“There’s nothing you can do there either,” I said. “I want to be there. For you.”
He kissed my forehead. “Please. Do this for me. You’ve already fainted once today.”
“Because I was hungry. I ate my dinner, Brad.”
“I know, but it’ll be dark by the time I get there, and you need your rest. I don’t want you sitting up all night in a hospital waiting room.”
“But I—”
He gently placed two fingers over my lips. “No arguments. Both of our mothers agree with me. You need to stay here and take care of yourself and the baby. I’d stay as well, except Sean—”
“Is your best friend. I get it.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Brad.”
“About what?”
“About today. About fainting. About Sean.”
“None of that is your fault, baby.” He smiled. “Except maybe the fainting. Don’t go without eating again, okay?”
“I won’t. I promise.” I’d keep that promise, no matter what. The baby inside me was my first priority.
“I guess we should shove off,” Ennis said. “We have a hotel room in town.”
“You can stay here,” Brad said. “We still have a couple spare rooms.”
Patty smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but…we kind of want to be alone.”
“Got it,” Brad said.
I smiled at both of them. Tonight would apparently be the night.
At least someone should get some on my wedding night. I wouldn’t be because my husband would be at the hospital.
Oh, well. I was nauseated anyway, and Brad and I had a lifetime of sleeping together.
A lifetime with our little dove.
After Patty and Ennis left, Brad gave me a searing kiss on the lips.
“I love you, Daphne.”
“I love you too, Brad. Come home to me soon.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Brad
I sat with my father, drinking really bad coffee, in the ICU waiting room.
Yeah, Murph had been transferred to ICU. A blood test showed heroin in his system—heroin!—and even after the doctors had pumped everything out of his stomach, he still hadn’t come to.
Murph’s parents sat at the other end of the waiting room. I’d called them when I got to the hospital. They, of course, were blaming me, and though I hadn’t drugged him, I couldn’t fault their logic.
He’d been at my wedding.
Someone at my wedding had drugged my best man.
At this point, the only person I knew for sure was innocent was Daphne.
My father, sitting beside me, had been a rock, had taken my best friend to the ER when I had other responsibilities, namely to my wife and our guests. Did I think he was behind this? No, I didn’t, but I couldn’t unsee him pulling a gun on an innocent psychiatrist who’d already done him a massive favor.
George Steel was capable of so much more than I ever gave him credit for—and not in a good way.
Why should I be so surprised? This was a man who’d knocked his wife around simply because she couldn’t give him more children.
He seemed to regret those actions now.
Did he regret threatening Dr. Pelletier?
