Not “the bride’s mother.”
Not my last name.
Laura.
“You called the bakery.”
Ryan’s mother didn’t answer.
“You pretended to be Emma.”
“I called.”
“And told them not to give me the cake.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I told them not to release it to Laura.”
“That was me.”
“It was also me.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“Did you really do that?”
She looked at him.
“I was trying to get someone to listen.”
“By interfering with our wedding?”
“I didn’t damage anything.”
“You impersonated my fiancée.”
“I knew the bakery would call once there was a problem.”
My skin prickled.
“You knew I’d show up.”
She nodded.
“You knew they’d refuse me the cake.”
Another nod.
“And then I’d call Emma.”
“Yes.”
Ryan stared at her in disbelief.
She looked at him, eyes suddenly wet.
“I knew somebody would have to ask which Laura.”
