Stewart fired off two messages in the group chat, one right after the other.
【@Danielle, quit spreading lies! Ex-girlfriend? Mel is just my sister!】
【Everybody relax. Lucy and I got into a little spat, that's all. I'll go smooth things over and bring her back to finish the paperwork.】
The sheer nerve of him turned my stomach.
Right then, an unknown number rang through.
It was the owner of the renovation company we'd booked.
He asked, careful and polite, "Miss Pruitt? About the auspicious start date tomorrow—do you still want us to go ahead as planned and swing the first hammer at the new place?"
My father took the phone straight out of my hand, answered without hesitating, and put it on speaker.
"This is Lucy's father. We're not buying the house."
The line went dead.
My mother couldn't hold herself together anymore. She turned her face away and cried until she could hardly breathe.
Something in me knotted tight.
Stewart called again. I hung up on him.
Then came voice message after voice message, more than a dozen in a row.
I tapped the last one.
"Lucy Pruitt! Have you had enough! Quit making a scene in the middle of the street! I'm counting to three. Grab that passbook and get back in here to transfer the residency, now!"
I lifted the phone to my mouth and answered, cold and flat.
"Stewart, get ready to take a call from my lawyer. We're going to talk about calling off the engagement, and about damages."
The group chat went dead silent.
A few seconds later, Melinda popped up with a slick little message.
【Lucy, please don't be upset, this is all my fault. How about this—just treat the down payment as a loan from me to you. I'll write you an IOU and pay you back every month from now on…】
My mother stood up and took my hand.
"Lucy. Let's go home."
Her eyes held nothing now but the finality of a heart that had given up.
We walked to the curb and flagged down a cab.
The cab carried us home.
As we passed the upscale complex that was supposed to be our wedding home, I saw the electronic screen at the entrance still scrolling the red banner the agent had put up early,
"A Warm Welcome to Mr. Dickerson and Miss Pruitt to Their New Home."
Right then, that streak of red looked unbearably bleak, and unbearably absurd.
Once we got home, the phone started buzzing again.
It was a text from the bank's large-transfer system.
【Dear customer, your scheduled large-transfer window will close in 22 minutes. Please complete authorization as soon as possible.】
Time was pushing me toward the final cut.
At the top of the screen, text messages kept popping up.
It was the manager of the wedding venue, spamming my name in the planning group chat.
【Miss Pruitt, are you there? When will you settle the balance for tonight's reception? If we don't get confirmation soon, we'll have to cancel the venue!】
【Miss Pruitt? Reply the moment you see this!】
The manager of the bridal shop sent a private message too.
【Miss Pruitt, that custom gown of yours—does it still need the final alterations? It seems like things on your end might…】
She didn't finish, but her meaning was plain enough.
Just then, Danielle sent a candid photo to our private group chat.
In it, Stewart and Melinda were sitting side by side in the VIP lounge at the county records office.
He had one leg crossed over the other, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, the picture of ease.
Melinda leaned against him, laughing so hard she was practically shaking.
Where was any trace of the urgency, the house-on-fire panic he kept talking about?
Stewart called again.
I hit answer, and put it on speaker.
The moment it connected, I heard Melinda's syrupy voice come through from his end.
"Stew, this coffee's so bitter. Put some sugar in it for me, would you?"
