Murder on the Bride’s Side

“And Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“Go talk to Peter. Now.”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said, wondering why hearing Peter say that he preferred Chloe over me scared me more than the thought of Detective Grant arresting me for interfering with a murder investigation.

After replacing the receiver, I remained slumped in the leather chair for several minutes. This was silly, I told myself. I couldn’t sit in the study and hide forever. It was time to face all the messiness that lay on the other side of the door. However, I resolved to face it calmly and without my usual show of hysterical emotion. I would not cry or fall apart. I would be calm.

I opened the door. Everyone had left the living room—except for Peter. He sat in one of the fireside chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Seeing me, he jumped to his feet and rushed across the room.

“Can I talk to you now?” he asked.

I nodded and walked to the chair opposite the one he’d vacated. The fire’s blue-and-yellow flames leaped and swayed to an unknown beat. With a sigh, I sat down on the plush seat cushion and stared at my lap. Peter settled across from me. Leaning forward in his chair, he took my hands in his.

“Elizabeth? I know I should have told you this before, but I just didn’t know how. Chloe and I know each other.” He glanced uneasily at me to gauge my reaction. I gazed calmly back at him. “You... you don’t seem surprised.”

“That’s because I’m not. Chloe already told me.”

He swallowed. Hard. “Chloe told you?”

“Yes. Chloe. Funny how she managed to find the time.”

“When did she tell you?”

“During the reception, but then I saw you two for myself. It was pretty obvious you two hadn’t just met.”

Peter flushed. “I didn’t know you’d seen us talking. You seemed to be spending a lot of time dancing with Harry.”

I shifted in my seat. “I believe you were telling me about Chloe.”

Peter sighed and nodded. “Sorry. Our parents are close friends and so we were thrown together a lot as kids. There was this general assumption that Chloe and I would eventually date, and, well, we did.” He paused, his eyes shifting briefly to the floor. “We were pretty serious, actually. Anyway, we talked about the possibility of taking it to the next step, but there were some things that we just didn’t agree on—kids, for instance. I wanted them and she wasn’t sure.”

Chloe’s absurdly indulgent behavior toward Ashley suddenly made sense—she was trying to show Peter how over-the-moon about kids she’d become. God, I really hated her.

Peter continued. “Anyway, we agreed it would be a good idea to see other people before we made any major commitments. I had no idea that she was going to be here.”

My heart plummeted and I nodded dumbly, staring at my hands entwined in his. This was harder than I thought it would be. There is a difference, I thought wryly, between the expectation of an unpleasant event, however certain the mind may be told to consider it, and certainty itself. At least now I understood why Peter had never discussed marriage with me. The only reason he was dating me was to discover if he wanted to marry Chloe. My resolve failed. I wished the conversation was already over.

Yanking my hands out of his warm grasp, I said with a steadiness that belied my true feelings, “So, have you been in touch with her the entire time we’ve been dating?”

“Not really. She called once or twice, but that’s all.”

“Did you tell her about me?”

Peter hesitated and I knew his answer before he gave it. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know why. I guess I just assumed that she’d moved on. But after seeing her this weekend, I realize that she hasn’t.” I stared at him in silence, waiting for him to elaborate. “Chloe can be pretty... direct sometimes,” he finally added.

“I’ll give her direct,” I muttered.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry about all of this. I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have. But the fact remains you didn’t.” A numbing sensation seeped through my veins, as if my brain dosed my body with a kind of emotional novocaine. I sat very still and was grateful for the feeling—or lack thereof. For once, I just might be spared from making a colossal ass of myself. “Peter,” I said with a steadiness that surprised me, “we’ve been dating for more than eight months. During that time you never told me about Chloe, and more important, you never bothered to tell Chloe about me. I think that says it all.”

“What do you mean?”

I raised my eyes to his. “It means that you still have feelings for Chloe. If you didn’t, you would have called her and told her about me. You would have ended it completely with her.”

He looked like he was going to interrupt. I didn’t want to hear any more. I couldn’t hear any more. I just wanted to get out of this room before the novocaine wore off. I wanted to be alone when I finally burst into tears. “I can’t do this again, Peter. I won’t do this again.”

“Won’t do what?” he asked, confusion registering across his face.

Get dumped for the other woman. “Peter, a relationship where someone is always wondering about what might have been is no good. There’s no point in being with someone when you’re confused.”

“Elizabeth, I... I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to end things. Frankly, it sounds like you’re the one who wants to... see what could have been.”

I had no idea what that meant. I could only hear the blood pounding in my ears as the novocaine wore off and the realization that Peter and I were breaking up caused my heart to shudder and thud unevenly.

I stood up. “Peter, I really like you, but I think it’s best if we just go back to being friends.”

“But we never really were friends,” he said with a small attempt at a smile.

I couldn’t return it. “Yeah, well maybe that was part of the problem.”

Before he could say another word, I turned and left the room, tears already blurring my vision. I went upstairs and headed for the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face until I finally stopped crying. Then I grabbed my purse and car keys. I needed to go for a long drive. When I got back downstairs, Peter was gone.

I walked out to the side terrace in the hopes of finding Bridget so I could tell her what had happened and where I was going. She wasn’t there. However, Harry was. He was walking toward me, a bunch of roses in one hand, a clipper in the other. My face must have registered my misery, because he looked at me with evident surprise.

“Elizabeth! What’s going on?”

Rather than launch into what had happened with Peter, I focused instead on the flowers. “Those are pretty,” I said mechanically. “Who are they for?”

Harry glanced down at the roses. “Oh. These. They’re for Megan.” He looked uncomfortable admitting this, and I wondered if he thought I’d be upset to hear they weren’t for me. “I thought they might cheer her up a little,” he continued. “But I guess that’s asking a lot from a bunch of roses.”

“I think it’s very sweet.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so. Just don’t tell Elsie. I cut them from the trellis. She’d tan my hide if she knew.” He peered closely at my face. “What’s wrong? You look like you need your own bouquet of flowers.”

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and willed myself not to cry. I focused on staring at the intricate stone design of the patio to distract myself. That lasted a whole ten seconds. Before I knew it, Harry had gently pushed me into one of the chairs and had pulled another up alongside it. Putting down Megan’s roses, he took my hands in his. “Okay, kiddo, give. What’s wrong? Is it Peter?”

I could only nod. I didn’t quite trust my voice to come out in a decibel appropriate to human ears. I suspected that I was capable of producing only sounds discernible to chipmunks.

“Would you like me to do something about him?” he asked teasingly. “I could make it look like an accident.”

I laughed hollowly and shook my head. “No, thanks. I think one violent act for the weekend is enough.”

Harry’s face clouded over at my words, and I cursed my insensitivity. Harry may not have liked Roni, but she had been married to his father.