“I think maybe…” she continued at a normal volume, and I realized I was still standing way too close, so I cleared my throat and took two steps back. “I’ve been thinking about it for a month now. How I can end this for both of us, all of us? I can’t share him after my wedding, but maybe…” Lottie rubbed the lace along her dress again. “Can you do me a favor?” she asked after a moment.

“Of course, Ms. du Lac.”

“Can you give Grayson something for me?”

I couldn’t hide the pain and anguish from my face. I was hoping to avoid Gray as much as possible. Go back to before, when I was a ghost, and he was the monster I tiptoed around. So I would live in his house—it didn’t mean I had to see him. I’d lived in his house for years without him noticing me. I just needed to survive a few months.

“Please don’t make me see him. Please. I’ll do anything else.”

“He’s not supposed to see the bride,” she whispered.

Didn’t I owe her this? After stealing him? After everything?

My shoulders fell. “What do you need me to give him?”

She rooted around the drawers of her vanity, pulling out a sweetly scented letter. Where it opened, she signed it with her name, so that I couldn’t sneak a peek.

“You have to wait for him to read it too,” she added.

With another resigned exhale, I went to go find Grayson.

“One more thing, Story.”

I turned back. Lottie faced me with a tense jaw, and if I saw right, fear in her eyes.

“I will forget everything that happens before he puts on the ring, but once we’re married, if you fuck my husband, I don’t care if your entire family is dying and this is the only place that can save them. I’ll put you all on the streets. I’m not going to be my mother. Do you understand?”

“I won’t be my mother, either, Ms. du Lac.”

She frowned, not understanding what I meant, but maybe understanding my intention, because she nodded.

“Mr. Crowne?” I asked, voice like sandpaper.

My fingers trembled with the note in my hand. The paper was thick and silky, rich feeling. I stared at the rose petal floor, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Mr. Crowne, your fiancée has sent me to give you something.”

I could feel his eyes. I could feel the eyes of the crowd at my back. I saw his bow tie, his sharp angular jaw. His slight Grayson frown that served only to make his lips more luscious.

Back to being a blurry Polaroid

Then his hands were on mine, warm and strong, taking the letter.

Too brief.

Too swift.

His warmth gone.