“That sounds like her,” I murmured.
My father looked up. “Tell me about Brenda.”
I sat down. “She and Elias grew up together. Same neighborhood in Oakland. He told me she was like a sister.”
Rebecca arched one eyebrow but said nothing.
“She was always around,” I continued. “At first I liked her. She was funny. Direct. She gave me advice about Elias, told me he had trust issues because people always left him. When he and I argued, she would somehow know exactly what happened before I told anyone.”
“Did that bother you?” my father asked.
“A little. But Elias said he talked to her because she knew him best.” I stared down at my hands. “I thought being jealous of his oldest friend would make me small.”
Rebecca’s expression shifted.
“Ella,” she said, gentler than before, “generosity without boundaries can become a doorway.”
I nodded, though the words stung.
There were so many little doorways now that I looked back.
Brenda borrowing Elias’s jacket at a barbecue because she was cold.
Cynthia making comments about how modern marriages worked better when daughters-in-law didn’t cling too tightly.
Elias suddenly becoming distant whenever I asked about wedding expenses.
Brenda crying in our kitchen two months ago because she had “made a mistake with someone unavailable,” while Elias stood at the sink, gripping a glass so hard I thought it might break.
I had comforted her.
I had made tea.
I had not once imagined the unavailable man was my fiancé.
My phone buzzed again. This time, the message was from Cynthia.
Ella, dear, we are all very concerned. A bride disappearing on her wedding night is not normal. Please call Elias before people start asking questions.
Rebecca read it and gave a humorless smile. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The foundation. Not normal. People asking questions. She’s planting the idea early.”
Another message arrived from Elias.
I don’t know what you think happened, but running away makes you look guilty.
My stomach twisted.
Guilty.
Of what?
Leaving before they could finish humiliating me?
Rebecca placed the phone screen-down.
“We need to respond today,” she said. “But not as a wounded bride. As a represented party.”
My father nodded. “Agreed.”
“Represented?” I asked.
Rebecca met my eyes. “You are going to inform Elias that all communication should go through counsel until further notice.”
The words landed heavily.
