Chapter 1

When I shoved the group photo into the shredder at the studio's front desk, Clifton Cooper was bent over, adjusting Jenna Shaw's shawl.

Upon hearing the noise, he glanced up at me and said indifferently, "Heidi Shaw, it's just a photo. Don't make a scene in public—it's embarrassing."

Jenna sat stiffly on the couch and said apologetically, "Is Heidi upset? Maybe we should use her photo for the welcome board instead. I really don't mind."

Mom immediately took hold of Jenna's hand and frowned at me. "Jenna has a congenital heart condition. She rarely gets to be this happy, so must you put on that sour face?"

Clifton handed the payment slip to the shop assistant.

"We'll go with Jenna's photo for the welcome area. Pick two more of Heidi's for the digital screen so she won't feel left out."

I stared at the strips of shredded photo curled up inside the machine and said nothing.

After we left the studio, Clifton drove us to a five-star hotel for the food tasting.

The table in the private dining room was set with a dark red tablecloth, and the menu was placed beside my hand. But Clifton didn't even let me open it before saying, "Take away all the seafood and anything spicy. Switch to bland, easy-to-digest food.

"Jenna has a heart condition and can't handle anything too rich or stimulating. Bring out a few more clear broths—something restorative and easy on the system."

The lobby manager paused for a moment and glanced at me. "And what about the bride's preferences?"

Clifton finally looked at me, his eyes carrying that familiar edge of impatience.

"Heidi isn't picky. She's been sensible since she was little. Just go with what I said."

Jenna cleared her throat softly and said, "Clifton, you know Heidi actually likes spicy food. This is her menu tasting, so let's not change everything just for me."

Clifton poured her some warm water and said in a very low voice, "You don't need to worry about her. She'll eat anything. Have some water."

When the first course of chicken soup was brought out, I was hit by the earthy scent of thyme and sage. My stomach clenched violently, and I gripped the edge of the table.

Back in college, Clifton once bought me an Herboriste cocktail, and I threw up so badly downstairs at the dorm that I couldn't even stand. He carried me to the hospital and told the doctor, "I've made a note of this issue of hers. I'll make sure she avoids it from now on."

I covered my mouth and rushed into the restroom. Kneeling beside the toilet, I vomited until tears streamed down my face. My throat was filled with nothing but bitterness.

Footsteps approached from the doorway.

Clifton leaned against the doorframe, his voice weary. "Heidi, must you put on such a sickening display at the table? Jenna's barely managed to work up an appetite as it is.

"Even if you're jealous that I swapped your photo for Jenna's on the welcome board, you don't need to act this poorly. You're about to get married—learn some sense of discretion."

I wiped the corner of my mouth and said hoarsely, "Clifton, you two enjoy the meal. Let her have the wedding too. I'm done. I'm not marrying you."

He froze for a beat, then let out a short laugh. "Are you using marriage as leverage? Heidi, that's not exactly original."

Jenna's voice drifted from down the hallway. "Clifton, maybe I shouldn't have come. Heidi seems really upset."

Clifton turned to leave, saying only this as he went, "Calm yourself down. Don't make me have to come back and soothe you later."

Instead of returning to the private room, I hailed a cab and left.

…

Back at the marital home, there were wedding decorations everywhere.

"Just Married" was taped to the window, and on the nightstand still sat the magnolia wood paintbrush I had sharpened by hand. Clifton had bought it for me the first time we ever went to an art supply store together.

I held that paintbrush and dialed my teacher, Wilma Hardy's, number.

"Ms. Hardy, I've thought it over. I'll leave for Mannorworth in a week. Is the spot at the studio still open?"

There were two seconds of silence on the other end before she asked, "Heidi, are you sure about this?"

I looked at the "Just Married" on the window and said quietly, "Yeah."

The lock clicked, and Clifton pushed the door open, a takeout box from the hotel dangling from his hand. He set the box on the table, his gaze falling on the paintbrush in my hand.

"Jenna said you didn't eat today, so I brought you some pasta. Don't take this too far."

I put the paintbrush back in the drawer and heard his phone buzz.

The screen lit up with a message from Jenna.

"Clifton, I want to add a line of text to that welcome photo. Can it say 'Clifton's Bride'?"