“Why is she late?” Gerard yelled as he paced in the small room that had been set aside for the groom and his men. When I saw him start to fall apart, I took him away from all those concerned eyes out there that sat in the pews and sequestered him inside.

Rochelle was currently eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds late for her own wedding, and I hadn’t heard a peep from my counterpart, the maid of honor, to explain why. I couldn’t reach the bridesmaids, who were all staying at a nearby hotel. And Rochelle wasn’t the only person late. Anna still hadn’t turned up either, and I was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole day. But as the best man I couldn’t let Gerard see that I was worried.

“You know what brides are like,” I started trying to reassure my best friend, “fashionably late and all that. Can’t be seen to be too eager, you know?”

“No,” he said shaking his head, “Rochelle wouldn’t do that. You don’t know her like I do.” But then he looked up at me, terror in his eyes. “Fuck, what if she changed her mind? What if she got cold feet and decided she was better off not marrying me?”

“Seriously, you and I both know that’s not true. She’d be lucky to have you. Stop thinking like this.”

“I can’t help it.” Gerard flopped down into a chair, his hands practically clawing his face.

“Look, I’m sure there’s just some wardrobe malfunction or something.”

Gerard rolled his eyes at me, shook his head and slowly sank back into despair. I had to do something, had to get answers for him, but the crowd out in the church was also getting restless.

Deciding upon what I needed to do, I sprang into action and grabbed the first groomsman I could find when I popped my head out of the little room.

“You, come here.”

Trevor, the man I recognized as one of Gerard’s close workmates, frowned but came over. “I need you to stay with him while I go find out what’s happening. Don’t leave his side and make sure he stays here until you hear from me, okay?”

Trevor nodded and I quickly explained to Gerard what I had planned before leaving to find the Pastor. Thankfully Gerard and Rochelle’s wedding was the only one on the books for the day, and so I was able to persuade Pastor Bowman to stay as long we needed him to, until the bride arrived. My next stop was to rush over to the hotel where the reception was being held, grab the caterer, and plead her to send over some canapés—anything really, whatever she could get her hands on—to placate the waiting guests in the church. The last thing we needed was the bride to finally turn up and for everyone to have given up and gone home.

I shot Anna a quick text as I rode up to the bridal suite of the Savoy Plaza Hotel, hoping to at least get some explanation as to why she hadn’t arrived on time. Maybe my little ruse had gone too far, as well as playing along with her own pretense. But I couldn’t help myself. It was my own way of having a little fun and getting back at her. And it wasn’t all bad, I had arranged for a whole team to look after my bride that morning. But maybe it had all been too much, too real for her? I’d been waiting for her to crack, to blink… and maybe this was her way of telling me I’d won. But then why did it feel like I’d lost?

As soon as the elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor that accommodated the bridal suite and the rest of the bridesmaids, it was clear that no one was in charge. It was a manic scene; bridesmaids rushed down the corridor, in and out of the neighboring doors, some clinging to the towels, not dressed. Some with their gowns on, but without makeup.

Oh boy.

One woman in a bridesmaid dress spotted me as I approached the suite. She let out a huge sigh. “You’re Sebastian, right? Gerard’s best man? I’m Trudy, maid of honor. I didn’t have your number. Thank god you’re here.”

“Trudy, don’t thank me yet. What on earth is going on? Don’t any of you own a watch? Rochelle was meant to be at the church over twenty minutes ago.”

She grimaced and said under her breath, “I know, but the shit has truly hit the fan. Maybe you can talk some sense into her?”

“Rochelle changed her mind?” I asked fearing the worst.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that… well, I suppose that’s partly true. The heel of her Louboutin shoe snapped right off and she’s convinced herself it’s a bad omen.”

“All because of a damn shoe? Do you need some super glue?”

“Don’t look at me like that, like we’re all crazy or incompetent. Besides we tried glue… the thing just snapped off again. And no one else has Rochelle’s tiny feet, not that she’d accept wearing anything other than those ridiculous shoes. And while we’ve been rallying around her, trying to figure out a way to fix this mess, everyone else kinda got behind on getting dressed. It’s a damn disaster.”

“Let me speak to her. You go get everyone else sorted.”

“Your funeral,” Trudy said with a shrug and waved her hand gesturing to Rochelle’s door.

I tapped lightly and not waiting to be told to fuck off, I let myself in. Rochelle sat tear-streaked in front of a dressing table. Used tissues carpeted the floor around her, almost like they’d been placed there in some bizarre wedding ritual. She glanced up at me and almost immediately let out a wail.

“Why did he send you?” she said, though it was hard to make out the words between her sobs.

“Ger didn’t send me,” I said and crouched down next to her. “Rochelle, he’s miserable. He thinks you don’t want to marry him.”

“That’s not true!” she sniffed.

“Then how about I take you to the church? So you two can finally tie the knot and be so loved up that it makes everyone sick?” I gave her hand a squeeze but she snatched it away.

“I can’t… You won’t understand.”

“Trudy mentioned your heel snapped?”

Rochelle nodded and I thought she was going to cry again. “Everything was supposed to be perfect… and then… and then everything started going wrong. It’s all ruined. I’m already late, why bother?”

“Trust me. Your special day is far from ruined and there is a man who loves you more than anything waiting for you so he can make you the happiest woman in the whole world.”

“But—”

“I know, your shoes. How about you let me worry about that, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” she sputtered.

“I’m going to fix everything. Just tell me exactly what make they are and your size.” I picked up one of the broken shoes, the heel no longer with it. That had probably been hurled across the room in fury. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You have to dry your eyes, get your girls back in here, and start to get ready again. Can you do that for me? Pretend that the last few hours never even happened, a do-over. Okay?”

Rochelle moved the hanky away from her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, moving her eyes to meet mine.

“I can do that,” she said with an apprehensive smile. “But how are you going to—”

“Rochelle, I’ll get you to the church today, no matter what. I know you and Ger both think I’m a screw-up but let me fix this. Trust me,” I said again.

She smiled at me then, and for the first time since we’d known each other, I finally thought we’d made progress and that we were a team. Before we’d always vied for Gerard’s attention, jealous whenever he spent time with either of us and not the other. But now I knew where my priorities lay and in a sense, I had to let go.

I just hoped that my confidence wasn’t misplaced and that I could somehow pull a rabbit from a hat in time. There was only one person that could help me now, and I didn’t know if she would ever speak to me again after our last encounter.

I left Rochelle and made sure Trudy knew what the new plan was then pulled out my phone to make a call. But just as I pulled the device from my pocket, an incoming call was coming through. Big Jim’s contact details flashed on the screen; I was about to let it go to voicemail when I realized he’d know why Anna had been late, or if he’d already dropped her off at the church while I’d been away.

“Big Jim, where are you? Where’s Anna?”

“Er, that’s kinda what I’m calling you about.”

“Did you pick her up from the apartment?” I said brusquely.

“Well, yes. But remember when you said to call if she went off the reservation again?”

“Yes… fuck you never dropped her at the church, did you?”

“No. We’re up in Montvale again. And this time she made no pretense of where she was going.”

“So where did you drop her off?”

“Sunset Hill Nursing Home.”

“What? But why?”

“Sir, I don’t know but she didn’t look happy and there’s something else I need to tell you… Unless she’s magically learned how to speak English and is a great mimic of American accents, then I don’t think she’s been honest with you about who she is.”

I sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Jim. I know.”

“Oh, fair enough then. What do you want me to do? Go in a find out what’s happening?”

“No, stay there.”

I ended the call. This was all I needed to worry about right now, I thought. I already had an almost impossible task of tracking down some designer shoes in what could only be the tiniest size ever made, but now Anna had fled. What had made her run all the way up to Montvale? And to a nursing home to boot… I was determined to find out why and hopefully bring her back in time for the wedding, but first things first: shoes and a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.

Deciding that it would be better to do this face to face, I legged it across town to my office building, but instead of getting off at my floor I got off early and walked the familiar route to Sarah’s office.

“Sir, excuse me, you can’t go in there,” Sarah’s assistant called as she got up from her chair, rounding her desk to try and stop me. But I already had my hand on the handle, pushing the door open. “Hey!”

“Sarah,” I said as our eyes met. She was behind a table with her lightbox on top, peering over negatives of a recent photo shoot. Sarah groaned, standing up straighter.

“What do you want?”

“Do you want me to call security?” the assistant asked.

“Wait, Sarah, I need your help. Please give me five minutes, I promise you can kick me in the balls afterward if you want to.”

Sarah waved a dismissed hand in the direction of her assistant. The door clicked behind me.

“Fine, you get five minutes.” Sarah frowned, “What on earth are you wearing? Oh god, you’re not here to…” Her eyes widened and it took me a second to work out what conclusion she’d jumped to.

Quickly, I shook my head. “No… shit, I’m sorry.”

“Ah it’s Gerard’s wedding today, isn’t it?”

“Yes, which is kind of why I’m here. Like I said I need your help. There’s been a bit of a disaster.”

“Why on earth you need my help is beyond me, Sebastian. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you proposed to that woman, to make me jealous, but then changed your mind!”

I squeezed the bridge of my nose, frustrated with the mess I’d made. “Sarah, what I did was childish but…” How could I tell her without hurting her even more than I already had? Perhaps I deserved all the horrible rumors she’d put out about me.

“But what?” she asked, impatiently putting her hands on her hips.

“But I do love her. I love Anna. And I’m so sorry if I hurt you. I honestly didn’t mean to. I was an idiot… I am one, and nothing can change that.”

Sarah gave me a wry smile and sighed as she toured her desk to sit down. I took a chance and sat in the chair beside her.

“You… in love… well that’s a new one, isn’t it? The moment I kick you to the curb you somehow manage to say the words and throw yourself into a committed relationship.”

I shrugged helplessly, then gave her hand a squeeze. I was expecting her to recoil but she didn’t. “For what it’s worth, I know I’m a dick and I am sorry.”

“I know you are. And I guess I am glad you found your happiness. It was for the best, we weren’t good for each other. Took me a bit to figure that out. I’m sorry too, for sullying your reputation. You did deserve it though…” A moment passed as we looked at each other, perhaps both thinking how it all might have turned out differently had we been better to each other. “Well, you didn’t come here to talk, or to twist the knife, I hope, so you better tell me what you’re after.”

I nodded and began to recall the disastrous day the bride was having and what I needed from Sarah. It was a long shot, but as an editor at a glossy fashion magazine, she would have all the necessary connections to track down a pair of shoes. Or at least I prayed she did. There’d been plenty of times—granted I’d barely listened when she’d recounted her day’s work—but from what I did remember, she used to tell me how sometimes for the shoots they would need to send out search parties for the perfect accessory or piece of clothing to make meticulous photographers happy.

“Do you think you can work your magic?”

“Oh honey, you really have no idea,” she said with a confident grin and a wink. “Give me thirty minutes, an hour tops, and I’ll have the shoes on my desk. Or someone will be out of a job.”

Sarah was about to pick up her phone, presumably to begin the frantic search, but I put my hand up in a halting manner. “One more thing. Is your car in the parking garage?”

“Why?” Sarah asked, narrowing her eyes.

I widened my grin, giving her my best sparkling smile. “I have another tiny favor to ask.”

“Does that mean I get to kick you in the balls twice?” Sarah grinned.