He Delayed Our Wedding for Years, So I Married His Brother

For three years, my fiancé can't find a date to marry me. For Serena Blake, he finds ten. The first year, a construction accident puts Whitmore Group on the evening news. Julian holds my hand and tells me a lavish wedding would make us look heartless. "I won't let them turn your happiest day into a scandal." I spend that night canceling appointments. The second year, there's a financing deal. Then a delay. Then another delay. "Can't we just pick a Saturday?" I ask. He kisses my forehead. "You deserve a wedding I can be fully present for." So I wait. By the third year, the deal has closed. The headlines have moved on. Every problem that supposedly stands between us and our wedding has been solved. But Martin Cole, the family's wedding consultant, still can't make the schedules work. I sit outside Julian's office for four hours on a Tuesday, hoping he'll give me fifteen minutes to choose a date. His assistant finally tells me he has left through another exit. On Friday, Serena comes home. By Saturday morning, Martin sends over ten available dates. Lucy stands in my doorway, holding the printed schedule. "Ten?" I ask. She nods. "All within the next two months." I put down my coffee. For three years, I have believed that Julian is protecting our wedding. Now I understand he has been protecting the empty space beside him. Waiting for someone else to fill it. Lucy places the pages on my desk. "What do you want me to tell the vendors?" "Nothing yet." "We should cancel everything." "Julian wants me to handle the handover." Her mouth falls open. "He wants you to plan their wedding?" "He says I already know what needs to be done." I gather the folders. Menus. Flowers. Music. Three years of changes in neat plastic sleeves. Lucy follows me to the door. "Audrey, you don't have to do this." "I know." Inside the last folder is one document I added this morning. That one, at least, is mine. Serena is sitting on Julian's lap when I reach the sunroom. She's wearing the same field jacket from yesterday's airport photographs. She has been back barely a day, and she already looks at home here. "This house feels more like home than anywhere else," she tells him. Julian smiles. I know his face well enough to notice what's different. Nothing about the smile looks practiced. "Then stop leaving it." She laughs and reaches for her cup. When she sees me, it slips. Tea splashes over the table and down the front of my skirt. "Audrey! I didn't hear you come in." I step back. Julian takes a napkin from beside his plate and holds it out. "Here." Serena catches his wrist. The movement pulls her sleeve back. Around it is a narrow strip of blue silk. I recognize the pattern before I see the initials. J.W. I embroidered them on the pocket square myself, back when I thought making something by hand meant he would keep it. It took me weeks to get the stitching right. Serena follows my gaze. "Oh, this? My watch strap broke on the flight. Julian said I could use it." "It was in a drawer," he says. As though that answers something. She strokes the silk. "I'm hopeless at this sort of thing. I can manage a project site, but give me a needle and I'm useless." Julian's hand settles at her waist. "You have better things to do." I lower the napkin. For a moment, the wet fabric clings cold against my legs. Then I place the folders on the dry end of the table. "These are the vendor agreements. The confirmed deposits are marked. Anything I haven't approved is your decision." Julian flips open the first folder. "You've spent three years on this. I'm sure it's fine." "I've included the documents you need to sign." He picks up a pen. Serena leans against him while he works through the pages. He signs a revised contact form. A vendor release. An acknowledgment that he is taking over the outstanding wedding expenses. Then he reaches the last page. His pen stops. "Termination of Engagement?" I meet his eyes. "Yes." Serena goes quiet. Julian reads the next few lines. "This is unnecessary." "So is keeping my name on your wedding arrangements." "We don't need to make everything ugly." "It's a record of what's happening." His expression tightens. For a second, I think he might refuse. Then Serena shifts on his lap. "Julian, if she needs it…" He exhales. "Fine." He signs. His name looks exactly as I imagined it would beside mine. Just on the wrong document. "I'll finish the vendor handover by Wednesday," I say. "After that, Martin handles the wedding." "Don't take this out on Serena." I look at him. "She's done nothing to you," he continues. "I thought helping with this might make the transition easier." "The transition." "You know what I mean." I take the signed pages. Serena watches me slide them into the folder. For the first time since I arrived, she looks less amused. Julian has already reached for his coffee. "When you've had time to calm down, we can discuss the rest." "There is no rest." He gives me the patient look I have mistaken for kindness for three years. "Audrey." I close the folder. "You have ten dates. Pick one." Then I leave with the only signature I need.

The flowers arrive on Monday. Ivory roses. Pale blue delphiniums. White sweet peas. My mother helped choose the colors before she became too ill to leave the house. I stand beside the delivery van while the florist checks the sample arrangements against my notes. "Are we still using the blue ribbon?" "You'll need to ask Martin." She glances up. I hand her his updated contact details. "He's responsible for the final decisions now." Her eyes soften. People keep doing that. Looking at me as though I'm something they might break by speaking too loudly. I prefer it to what I hear around the corner. "Three years of this," a driver says. "She should've taken the hint." Another man laughs. "Maybe she thinks if the wedding goes well, he'll keep her around." "I'm just glad we're finally getting it over with." I recognize the first voice. Frank. Two winters ago, he was in the hospital with pneumonia. When his sick leave ran out, I called payroll, arranged help with the bills, and made sure his wife didn't have to sell their car. He cried when he thanked me. Now he's laughing. I step around the van. The laughter stops. Frank pulls himself straight. "Miss Bennett." "The flowers go to the garden room," I say. "The florist will show you where." "Yes, miss." I don't ask him whether he remembers. I do. That's enough. Inside, Lucy is sorting folders into boxes. She sees my face. "What happened?" "Nothing I need to stay for." I sit beside her. We finish the handover one vendor at a time. I remove my personal payment details. Return samples. Label the sketches that belong to me. The menu tasting notes stay. My mother's handwritten place cards come home. Martin calls twice. The second time, he sounds irritated. "Serena wants to know why the process is so formal." "Because I'm no longer involved after Wednesday." "There's no need to make this difficult." "I'm making it clear." He pauses. "You've always been so accommodating." "Yes." I look at the boxes around me. "I have." After lunch, Julian sends a message. Serena feels you're being cold. I read it. Then turn the phone facedown. Lucy notices. "Do you want to answer?" "No." For three years, I have explained myself to him. Why I wanted a date. Why another canceled appointment upset me. Why I cried when my mother asked whether she would live long enough to see me get married. Every explanation somehow ended with me apologizing. I'm tired. I don't want to spend the rest of my life finding gentler ways to tell him he has hurt me. I'm closing the last box when a woman appears in the doorway. She carries a tablet and wears the bright, fixed smile of someone delivering an unpleasant instruction she hasn't had to invent herself. "Miss Bennett? I'm Paige. Serena's assistant." I stand. "Does she need something from the files?" "Mr. Whitmore and the bride would like to see you." Lucy looks up sharply. "The bride has a wedding consultant. Audrey is leaving." Paige keeps smiling. "This is something only Miss Bennett can help with." "What is it?" I ask. "Serena would prefer to explain in person." I pick up my bag. Lucy catches my eye. "You can say no." "I know." Paige's smile thins. "They're waiting in the library." As we walk, she glances at my bag. "You won't need to bring that. This shouldn't take long." I keep it on my shoulder. I'm learning not to put down the things I intend to leave with.

Serena comes toward me with both hands out. "Audrey." I step aside before she can take mine. "Is there a problem with the arrangements?" "No. You've been wonderful." Julian stands by the fireplace. There's a photograph of us on the mantel. It was taken the day he proposed. Neither of them seems to have noticed it. Serena follows my gaze. Her smile falters. Then she looks down. "People are saying things." "What people?" "Does it matter?" Julian asks. "It seems to matter to you." He crosses the room and puts his hand against Serena's back. "She shouldn't have to start her marriage with everyone treating her like she stole something." I look at him. He looks away first. "What do you want?" "A gesture," he says. "Something that shows there's no bitterness between the families." "My family hasn't said a word publicly." "Exactly. The silence makes people speculate." Serena lifts her head. "I've always admired your mother." My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. "She had such beautiful taste." "No," I say. Neither of them has finished asking. They don't need to. Julian's expression hardens. "Listen first." "I am listening." Serena glances at him. "The dress would only need a few alterations." The room seems to lose its air. My mother started making it the year Julian proposed. At first, she worked at the dining table with the windows open. Later, when her hands began to shake, she stitched in bed. Some days she could manage only a few inches. She kept apologizing for being slow. As though I was the one running out of time. Last month, I sat beside her hospital bed and told her we could have a small ceremony. No flowers. No reception. Just her, my father, and someone to witness the vows. She smiled. "That would be more than enough." I called Julian from the corridor. He listened while messages kept sounding on his other phone. Serena's project was in the news that day. "I can't make a decision like this in ten minutes," he said. My mother died nine days later. The dress is still in her room. Serena touches Julian's sleeve. "I wouldn't ask if it didn't mean so much." "To you," I say. Julian exhales. "Audrey." "She made it for me." "And she'd want it to be worn." "Don't tell me what my mother would want." The words come out louder than I intend. Serena steps back. Julian moves in front of her. "There's no need for that." For a moment, I can only stare at him. He knows. He saw the dress. He heard my mother say she wanted to see me walk down the aisle. He knows exactly what he's asking me to hand over. "I've arranged a dress for Serena already," I say. "The designer has her measurements. It will be ready for collection tomorrow." "This would mean more." "Then find something else that means more." His face changes. The warmth leaves it so completely that I wonder how often I've mistaken its absence for stress. "Be careful, Audrey." "About what?" "Your mother's name is attached to a great deal of work the group funded." I go still. Three years ago, after the accident, my mother helped establish a relief fund for injured workers and their families. My father's company contributed money and equipment. Julian was facing questions about his handling of the project. My parents helped keep the relief effort moving when his own team couldn't organize it. "You wouldn't," I say. "The old correspondence could raise questions." "Only if you lie about it." "If the story becomes that the fund was used to protect the company's reputation, people will draw their own conclusions." I feel my nails press into my palm. Serena says nothing. She doesn't look shocked. Julian lowers his voice. "I'm trying to avoid more unpleasantness. So are you." "My mother is dead." "I know." "And you're threatening her." "I'm asking you to think about what matters." For a second, I want to hit him. Then I think about the dress. The tiny stitches. The way my mother's fingers ached. I let go of my bag strap. "You'll have a dress," I say. Serena's eyes brighten. Julian relaxes. "There. Was that so difficult?" I turn before he can touch me. Outside, Lucy is waiting. She takes one look at my face. "What did they ask for?" "My mother's wedding dress." Her mouth opens. I shake my head. "Get the car." "Audrey—" "They're not getting it."

My mother's room smells faintly of lavender. No one has moved the chair beside the window. Her reading glasses are still on the little table. I stand in the doorway longer than I mean to. Then I cross to the wardrobe and take out the dress. The garment bag is heavier than I remember. I lay it on the bed and unzip it carefully. Ivory silk. Lace at the sleeves. A line of tiny covered buttons down the back. Inside the waist, where no one else would see, my mother stitched my initials in blue. I press my fingers against them. "I'm sorry," I whisper. Not because I'm keeping it. Because I ever brought him into her life. Lucy helps me wrap the dress and place it in a box. She takes it to the car while I close the empty garment bag. I'm turning toward the wardrobe when someone speaks from the hall. "I was hoping you hadn't agreed." Nathan Whitmore stands outside the open door. I straighten. "What are you doing here?" "Your father asked me to stop by for a set of project files before he gets back. Mrs. Ellis let me in." Our housekeeper. She has known Nathan longer than I have. "My father isn't home yet." "I know. She's trying to reach him." Nathan looks at the empty garment bag. "If Julian sent you—" "He didn't." "How do you know about the dress?" "He mentioned it on a call. He sounded pleased with himself." I fold the bag. "He often does." Nathan steps no farther into the room. We've seen each other at dinners over the years, usually at opposite ends of a table. He has spent most of the last decade working away from the family headquarters. Julian calls him difficult. I'm beginning to think that means he asks questions. "Our mothers were friends," he says. "I remember." "Your mother fixed the sleeves of every suit I owned until I was twelve. She said the family tailor made children look like unhappy bankers." I laugh before I can stop myself. "That sounds like her." His expression softens. Then he looks at the bag again. "She didn't spend her last good months making that for Serena Blake." "I know." "I thought you might need someone to say it." "Everyone seems to think I don't know what's happening." "No. I think you've spent a long time being told you have to accept it." I look at him. For a moment, neither of us speaks. From outside comes the soft sound of the car trunk closing. Nathan glances toward the window. Then back at the empty bag. "You moved it." "Yes." "And what are you taking to Serena?" "The dress she already chose." His mouth curves. "Good." "She may notice." "I'm sure she will." "Julian definitely will." "He'll survive." I fold the bag again, though it doesn't need folding. "He threatened my mother's reputation." Nathan's smile disappears. "What did he say?" I tell him. He listens without interrupting. When I finish, he takes out his phone. "I have copies of the relief fund reports. My division helped process some of the payments." I look up. "Could you send them to me?" "Yes." "Thank you." He puts the phone away. "If he makes that threat again, call me." "I can handle a phone call from Julian." "I know. That doesn't mean you have to handle all of this alone." Mrs. Ellis appears at the end of the hall. "Miss Bennett, your father's office confirmed that his flight lands tomorrow morning." I check my phone. Nothing. His last message came early this morning. Home tomorrow. We'll talk properly when I get there. He knows the wedding is off. I haven't told him about the dress. "I'll try him," I say. Nathan steps aside as I come out. "Will you let me know when he gets home?" "Yes." He hands me his card. I look at it. "I have your number." "Then use it." "For the reports?" "For anything you need." I slip the card into my bag. He starts toward the stairs, then turns back. "You can call when you don't need rescuing, too." "I haven't asked you to rescue me." "I noticed." This time, when he smiles, I smile back.

The dress is ready by noon. Serena chose a fitted silk gown with a long train and enough beadwork to keep three people busy for a week. I check the measurements against the order. Then I sign for collection. The designer looks relieved. "Will Miss Blake be coming in for the final fitting?" "Her assistant will arrange it." "And you?" "I'm finished." It feels good to say it. Lucy carries the bag to the car. We're halfway to the Whitmore estate when traffic stops outside my father's company offices. A small crowd stands near the entrance. Some hold signs. Others are arguing with a security guard. I lean forward. "What's happening?" Our driver slows. I recognize a man near the curb. Daniel Price. He has worked with my father for fifteen years. His arm is in a sling. "Pull over." Lucy catches my wrist. "Audrey?" "I know him." I get out before the driver can come around. Daniel sees me. His expression changes from anger to alarm. "Miss Bennett." "What's going on?" He looks past me. "Where's your father?" "I was about to ask you." A woman beside him steps forward. "We've been told the project losses are his responsibility." "What losses?" "That's what we want to know," Daniel says. "We finished the repairs. Your father stayed until the independent inspection was complete." I pull out my phone. My father's email is still there. Sent two days ago. A photograph of him beside the project team. An attached report. Final inspection passed. Coming home as soon as the handover is finished. Daniel looks at the screen. "That's the day." "The day what?" "We got clearance. Everything was signed off." "Then why are they blaming him?" He rubs a hand over his face. "They're saying he left the site before the emergency work was done. That Serena Blake took over." "That isn't true." "We know." A man behind him raises his voice. "She was already back here posing for photographs. We were still out there." I remember Serena's airport jacket. Her luggage by Julian's door. The ten wedding dates. My stomach tightens. "Has anyone spoken to my father?" Daniel shakes his head. "He came back this morning. Whitmore's people said they needed him for a debrief." "What people?" Before he can answer, two men come out of the building. I recognize one of them from Julian's security detail. He speaks into his phone, then looks directly at Daniel. "We've asked you to move away from the entrance." "We're waiting for an answer." "You've been given one." "By whom?" The man's eyes shift to me. "Miss Bennett." "Where is my father?" "Mr. Bennett is assisting with an internal review." "Where?" "You'll need to speak to Mr. Whitmore." "Which one?" He doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. Daniel steps closer. "Call us when you find him." I give him my number. "Send me what you have. Messages. Photos. The inspection date. Don't delete anything." He nods. Behind us, the guard starts telling people to leave again. I get back into the car. Lucy is already holding out her phone. "I've tried your father twice." "So have I." "Should we call Nathan?" I look at the estate gates on the route ahead. "I'm calling Julian first." He doesn't answer. I call again. Nothing. My father's message glows on my screen. Home today. He should be home. He should be sitting at our kitchen table, complaining that Mrs. Ellis has made enough lunch for six people. Instead, his employees are standing outside asking where he is. The driver turns into the Whitmore estate. I'm out of the car before Lucy has unfastened her seat belt. Inside, someone calls my name. I keep walking. Voices come from the garden terrace. Serena is standing beside a horse brought over from the stables. A photographer adjusts his camera. Julian holds the reins while she straightens the collar of a clean field jacket. The image is already taking shape. The woman who came home and saved the project. Strong. Capable. Deserving. "You won't have to worry about Bennett's people," Julian tells her. "I've dealt with it." She touches his arm. "All of it?" "All of it. No one's going to take this away from you." I stop at the terrace doors. Julian looks up. The smile leaves his face. "Where is my father?"