Sneak Peek - Chapter One

It’s been an hour since my wedding was supposed to start and I’m standing at the altar, alone.

I fiddled with the bouquet. My A-line dress felt tight. Sweat traveled down the side of my face.

Our guests shifted around in the wooden, white chairs. Some scrolled on their phone. Others whispered among themselves, their eyes landing on me before quickly looking away. I plastered a smile on my face. I had to keep up appearances.

The piano player yawned, fingers twitching. He glanced around, waiting for his signal to keep playing. The flower girl sat in her mother’s lap, head drooping.

I cleared my throat, a hush falling over the crowd. Wiping my hands on my dress, I dug around for a sliver of confidence.

“Since we’re starting a little later than anticipated, feel free to walk around. Enjoy the refreshments,” I said, voice booming. “Hopefully it won't take much longer.”

As people shuffled towards the reception hall, I collapsed onto an empty chair in the front row. Pain shot through my legs. My smile dropped. I placed the bouquet next to me, leaning forward.

A hand settled on my shoulder. I glanced up to see my best friend, Yasmine. Her goddess locs were pulled up into a high bun and her lavender bridesmaid dress hugged her subtle curves. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Breathe, Serenity. We’ll find Justin.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Your Mom is asking for you,” she said, standing up straight. “She’s outside.”

I groaned. “I can’t face her. Not right now.”

“You want me to hold her off?”

“Please?”

She smiled softly. “Can do.”

Yasmine walked off, heels clicking against the gray hardwood. I snuck a look at the groomsmen. A few of them shifted uncomfortably, but his best friend, Trayvon, stood confidently in front of everyone. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he shot me a small smile, his gold grill gleaming in the light. He walked towards me, slipping his hands into his suit pockets.

“You okay?”

I shook my head. “No….did he answer his phone?”

“Nah.”

“Call him again,” I pleaded. “This isn’t like him.”

“I tried five times Rin,” he said. “All of them went to voicemail.”

I wanted to hit something. Scream until my throat bled, but this wasn't the time to have a meltdown. Not yet. Not until I knew he was okay.

“Did you call the nearby hospitals?” I said. “What about the police?”

“You know we can’t file a missing person’s report yet-”

“We have to do something!” I said, throwing my hands up. “My fucking husband is missing.”

Silence settled over us. I slumped forward, an apology on the tip of my tongue when I heard the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

“Serenity?”

I looked up to see Justin’s mother, Diane. Her salt and pepper hair was pinned back in the front. The back was picked out, her Afro perfectly circular. Her silver dress swung effortlessly around her body as she came close, mouth set into a small frown. She moved the bouquet over to sit next to me. I leaned into her, taking a deep whiff of her vanilla scented perfume.

“Are you okay honey?”

I shook my head. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, I didn't trust myself to speak. One word and the bridal makeup I paid for would be a complete waste of money.

“I haven’t heard from him,” she murmured. “Have you Trayvon?”

“No ma’am,” he said. “I'll drive around. See if his car nearby.”

“Take Wendell with you,” she said. “He can try to call him while you’re driving.”

“He ain’t even answer his daddy?”

Diane’s chin brushed against my head. “No.”

I pulled away from her. “Let me try him again. Maybe he’ll answer this time.”

I grabbed my phone from my pocket, turning it on. A flicker of hope burst through me when I saw all my notifications come in. Maybe he had already told me he was going to be late because he got stuck in traffic. Or he was saving a fucking puppy on the freeway.

But when I didn’t see a text message or a missed phone call from him, something hollow settled in me. I clicked on his number, listening as the phone rang. Once. Twice.

It went straight to voicemail, the automated voice echoing in the venue hall. I hung up. Tried again. Seconds later I was listening to the same automated voice: please record your message at the tone.

Fuck him for worrying me and everyone else.

I let the anger wash over me again. I was about to spam call his phone when I heard Yasmine’s voice.

I looked up to see her walking hurriedly towards me, a piece of paper clutched to her chest.

“I thought you were handling my Mom?”

“I was,” she said. “I convinced them to go get some food and then I went out for a smoke.”

She stopped in front of me, hands shaking. Something heavy settled in my stomach.

“I found this on your car,” she said. “It’s addressed to you.”

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