Chapter 3 - Preston Had Canceled the Honeymoon
The airline confirmed it the next morning.
The Amalfi flights had been canceled forty-eight hours before the wedding.
Not by Amelia.
By Preston.
He had not told her.
The hotel had been canceled too.
The refund went back to his card.
In its place, a driver had been scheduled for seven the morning after the wedding.
Destination:
Lake Briar.
Six-week reservation.
Amelia read the confirmation twice.
“Six weeks?”
Grace sat beside her.
“That isn’t a honeymoon.”
No.
Lake Briar was a beautiful place.
Forested acreage.
Private water.
A restored stone house.
Almost no cell service beyond the main building.
Amelia had visited once.
She hated it.
Too isolated.
Too quiet.
Veronica loved it.
She called the place “where Caldwells remember what matters.”
Amelia called Preston.
Not because she wanted reconciliation.
Because she wanted to hear what explanation he had prepared.
He answered immediately.
“How are you?”
She ignored the question.
“Why did you cancel Italy?”
Silence.
“Amelia—”
“Why?”
“Mom thought Europe would be too much after the wedding.”
“Mom.”
“Everyone’s exhausted.”
“You booked six weeks at Lake Briar.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Amelia almost laughed.
“My passport was taken out of my locked desk.”
“I packed for you.”
“No. Your mother did.”
Preston did not answer.
Amelia continued.
“My office key is gone.”
“You weren’t going to work for a while.”
That sentence chilled her.
“Says who?”
“We discussed this.”
“No. You suggested I take two weeks off.”
“You’ve been under enormous pressure.”
“I run my own studio.”
“And it’ll survive.”
The casual certainty in his voice was worse than shouting.
Amelia looked at Grace.
“What else did you decide?”
Preston exhaled.
“This is exactly why last night happened.”
Amelia went still.
“What does that mean?”
“You keep turning every family decision into a fight.”
“Family decision?”
“Lake Briar was supposed to give us time away from all these outside influences.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed.
Amelia’s voice became quiet.
“Outside influences like my work?”
No answer.
“My friends?”
Silence.
“My family?”
Preston finally snapped.
“You married me yesterday.”
And there it was.
Not a honeymoon.
A transition.
In Preston’s mind, the wedding had changed who got to decide what Amelia’s life looked like.
When she ended the call, Grace asked the question Amelia had not yet allowed herself to think.
“What were they expecting to happen during six weeks at that house?”
May you like
Amelia looked toward the packed luggage.
She intended to find out.
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