The Day My Groom Double Booked Our Wedding

Seven years. Seven years with Grant Montgomery, and we were finally getting married.

I was full of enthusiasm, meticulously planning every detail of the wedding, when I accidentally found our venue had been double-booked.

My carefully prepared space was occupied. I complained to Grant, frustrated, but he cut me off without mercy.

"Youre driving me crazy, Cara. Its a venue. If this ballroom is booked, we'll just switch to another one, alright?"

I stared at Grant, taken aback by his sudden, icy tone.

He didn't call me again. My attempts to reach out were always met with the same dismissive reply: I'm swamped. I'm busy.

It wasn't until ten days before the wedding, when I went to his office, that I understood.

His voice filtered clearly through the closed door: "Phoebe, sweetheart, relax. Our guests are going to The Belvedere. I haven't changed the address on the invitations, okay? She can have the dress, the flowers... but on Saturday, you're the only bride with a crowd."

"The RSVP card still has our original address," he reassured her.

I stood there, stunned.

It wasn't a venue clash. It was a groom clash.

I walked home in a daze.

I was so disoriented I bumped into countless strangers on the street.

"Watch where you're going, lunatic!"

"Seriously? Look at her, what a mess. Move it!"

"Blind? If you don't need those eyes, donate them!"

I froze at the last comment, then let out a self-deprecating laugh. "You're right. I was blind."

The person who had shouted at me faltered, a flash of surprise crossing their face before they hurried away.

They probably thought I was a psycho. I didn't care enough to explain.

Rain began to pour, instantly soaking me through. I didn't feel it. The icy water ran down my face, washing away nothing.

Inevitably, I woke up in the middle of the night with a fever.

Half-asleep, I answered my phone. "Cara, can you bring some Advil to The Nightingale Club? This crowd totally got me hammered."

My body tensed. Instinctively, I swung my legs out of bed to search for the medicine.

I stopped myself. "I'm sorry. I can't. I have a fever."

A moment of silence, then a chorus of teasing voices around him. "Grant, you lost! Looks like you're buying your own hangover cure."

A high, charming voicePhoebe Wells.

I let out a cold, cynical laugh. Grant abruptly hung up the phone.

He came home late, hours later, smelling strongly of whiskey and cheap cologne.

He yanked me out of bed. "What is wrong with you? My friends were practically pouring liquor down my throat and you couldn't be bothered to bring a bottle of Advil. You used a fever as an excuse?"

"Do you even care about me, your fianc?"

The alcohol fumes cleared my head a little. I pressed my palm to my forehead, trying to steady myself. "I told you. I have a fever."

The emphasis finally made him look at me. My flushed cheeks were all the confirmation he needed.

He was silent for a moment. He spoke softly, but the words were hollow. "Right. Im sorry. I'll take the study."

I scoffed, collapsing back onto the bed. I wasn't going to sleep now.

From the adjacent study, I could hear soft laughter and low voices. They were muffled, but loud enough.

I didn't sleep all night.

Grant and Phoebe emerged from the study, looking refreshed and annoyingly cheerful.

Grant's smile froze when he saw me. He instinctively pulled away from Phoebe. "Morning," he mumbled.

"The party ran late last night, and Phoebe didn't have her keys, so I just brought her here."

I nodded, stepping around them and heading for the door.

He grabbed my wrist. I looked at him, confused.

"Where are you going?" he stammered. "Aren't we supposed to look at your wedding dress today?"

I paused, then smiled brightly. "Why don't the two of you go? I have an urgent matter at the firm."

Grant seemed to visibly relax, his smile becoming genuine. "That's probably best. Phoebe has impeccable taste, I'm sure shell make sure were both happy."

"I'm sure," I echoed.

I immediately called his closest family friends and told them the venue had been changed. Then I called my own friends and told them the wedding was off.

I turned off my phone. I couldn't bear to explain. I headed straight for the Passport Agency.

I'd secured a spot in a post-graduate program abroad months ago, but had put it on holdwho wants to be apart right after they get married? Now that the wedding wasn't happening, I wasn't giving up that scholarship.

As I walked out, I saw Grant and Phoebe exiting the courthouse, faces beaming.

We locked eyes. All three of us froze.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, cutting him off before he could question me.

Grant flinched, his gaze darting away.

Phoebe immediately slipped her hand through Grants elbow, a triumphant look on her face.

"Grant just came to run an errand for me," she purred.

I gave her a flat look. "Congratulations."

Grant tried to follow me, reaching out to explain, but his hand snatched air.

"Cara!"

I didn't stop, accelerating my pace.

That evening, Grant brought Phoebe back to the apartment.

I looked at them impassively. "Should I give you the master bedroom? I doubt you both fit in the study."

My comment must have hit a nerve. Grant's face darkened.

"Cara! Do you have to be so cutting? What happened to you? You sound like a shrew!"

I almost laughed.

I hadn't said or done much, yet the label of "shrew" had already been slapped on me.

I pointed at my head and smiled. "I've been wearing so many hats lately, I don't even know which one fits best."

Grant looked momentarily uncomfortable.

Then, with a sickening speed, he backhanded me across the face.

"I gave you a life here! Don't forget this is my apartment! You eat my food, live under my roof! And you're going to talk to me like that?"

"Get out! You're done here!"

He shoved me toward the front door, not giving me a chance to grab my purse or phone.

My head spun. By the time I regained my senses, I was locked out of my own home.

"Grant! Give me my phone!"

I pounded on the door. It never opened.

It was a cold autumn night. I rubbed my arms, goosebumps rising on my skin. This was the city I grew up in, and suddenly, I was homeless.

Penniless and desperate, I walked the five miles to my office. I collapsed onto my desk, utterly exhausted, and slept until morning.

With the help of a coworker, I bought a burner phone and called Grant's number.

It wasn't him who answered.

Phoebe's voice drifted through the line. "Grant, it's an unrecognized number."

Grant sounded impatient. "Just hang up."

But Phoebe didn't. She must have known it was me.

"Shouldn't you call Cara back and apologize, Grant? She's a girl; she has dignity..."

The classic, innocent maneuver. A 'Golden Girl' playing the part of a saint.

I gave a dry laugh, a terrible sound. But Grant's reply froze the blood in my veins.

"Why bother? She has no place to go in this city. She doesn't even have her phone. She'll break and come crawling back soon enough."

The line clicked dead.

I stared at the phone. He knew.

He knew I was out there. He knew I had nothing.

I forced a bitter smile. I thought my heart was done hurting, but a flicker of pain still pierced my chest.

I immediately dialed the number again.

"Why are you calling again? Didn't you hear what Grant said?" Phoebe's voice was now sharp with irritation. "How pathetic are you? Sticking to him like a cheap sticker, don't you have any self-respect?"

I ignored the insults. I smiled faintly. "Let's meet. I have something to give you."

Phoebe sounded suspicious, but after a moment of hesitation, she agreed.

"The downtown caf. Be there."

I hung up and headed out.

The time came and went. Phoebe didn't show.

"Cara! Are you trying to intimidate Phoebe again?"

"I told you nothing is going on between us, why do you keep harassing her?" Grant's voice rang out, followed immediately by the sting of a sharp slap.

My cheek burned. I laughed mockingly, looking at Grant like he was a complete stranger.

"Hitting a woman before you even bother to ask questionsis that the Montgomery family standard?"

Grant's face flushed deep red. He pursed his lips, unable to respond.

Since Phoebe hadn't come, I didn't need the thing I'd brought.

"If I wanted to hurt her, I wouldn't have called your phone. Did you think I hoped she'd answer? That's hilarious."

I advanced on him slowly, and he actually took a step back. I found him boring. I turned and walked away.

Grant didn't look for me again. The wedding day crept closer.

On the day before, he performed an act of great 'mercy.' He brought me a necklace.

No box. No velvet pouch. Just a dull, tarnished pendant.

"I bought back the necklace you loved so much," he said.

I found it ridiculously funny. I looked at Grant solemnly. "If you think I'd care about a used, second-hand necklace that Phoebe stole from me and you retrieved like a bone, you drastically underestimate me."

Grant looked guilty, his face hot with shame.

He tried to stand firm. "Why are you being so unreasonable? You have the necklace you love, and you have me. What more do you need?"

"Tomorrow, we'll be husband and wife."

I gave him a noncommittal smile. "I understand." I turned to leave.

"Wait," he said suddenly, grabbing my arm. "Where have you been staying? Your ID and things are at the apartment. Surely you haven't been..."

For a moment, I was hurt. My anger flared. I violently shook off his grip.

The look of pain in my eyes was unmistakable. "Grant! You knew I had nowhere to go, yet you threw me out!"

"Did you honestly think"

He broke eye contact, looking guilty. He looked away. "I thought you'd last half a day before coming back to me."

In that moment, I was done. "Forget it."

I strode away, not bothering to look back.

But there was an uninvited guest waiting for me below my office building.

"Cara."

I turned. Phoebe.

"You got the necklace, right? That was Grant and me trying to be decent. You loved it so much."

I looked at Phoebe. Around her neck was something incredible: the legendary, multi-million dollar Starlight Sapphire, rumored to have been sold at auction recently.

Noticing my gaze, Phoebe lifted her chin arrogantly, running her finger over the massive stone.

"Grant said you liked that old thing, so he traded the Starlight Sapphire for it."

Her tone was a punch to the gut.

"It's trash. Keep it," I told her.

Phoebe exploded with impotent fury.

I ignored her.

The next day, I boarded my flight to Copenhagen. I silenced my phone, ignoring the calls from the maniacsPhoebe and Grant.

Just as I was about to board, a strong force slammed me to the ground.

"You're abandoning the wedding just to leave the country?!"

Phoebe, wearing a ruined wedding dress and tears streaming down her face, looked pitiful and insane.

Grant, standing beside her, was seething with rage.

I glanced at their clothes. They were smeared with dirt and grime, as if someone had thrown mud or garbage at them.

"Wow. Wasn't this the wedding you dreamed of?" I asked sweetly. "What's wrong? Can't the wedding happen without me?"

Phoebe seemed to remember something. She scrambled on top of me, pinning me down.

"Do you know what you've done to me?!" she shrieked. "If it wasn't for you, I would be the happiest bride alive today!"

A terrifying pressure clamped down on my neck. I began to choke.

Grant watched, his expression complicated, but he made no move to help me.

Finally, airport security noticed my distress.

"What are you doing? Get off her! We'll call the police!"

Several guards rushed over and pulled Phoebe off me. I gasped for air.

I thanked the guards and sprinted toward the gate, boarding the plane with the fastest speed I could manage.

The moment I turned on my phone, my best friend, Samira "Sam" Khalil, called.

"Cara, you have no idea how awkward it was. All the guests were ghosted. The venue was empty."

"Mr. Montgomery was furious. He called Grant over and discovered the whole 'changing the bride' situation right in front of everyone. Grant and Phoebe got a massive beating."

I couldn't help but laugh. I had guessed something like this would happen. Grants father was obsessed with reputation. Changing a bride at the last minute for a mistress was unforgivable.

"I saw how pathetic they looked," I said. "Phoebe tried to choke me, but security stopped her."

Sam gasped in alarm. She asked after me, her concern warming my heart.

"I'm sorry, though. I wasn't just in the city for the drama. I wanted to see you off."

I went silent, a sudden ache in my chest. "I'm sorry."

Sam chuckled gently. "Don't be. I just want you to be happy. Once you're settled, I'll fly over to see you."

Hanging up, the loneliness of being in a foreign country finally hit me. But at least the annoying presence of my past was gone.

Life settled into a quiet rhythm.

Six months later, my old friends began sending me strange, synchronized messages of concern. The coordinated effort felt odd, but I couldn't get any specific news out of them.

Outside, the rain hammered down, mirroring the rising anxiety in my heart.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A furious, heavy pounding on the door made me jump.

I walked toward the door cautiously, my voice shaking. "Who is it?"

Through the peephole, I saw no one. My hair stood on end. My mind raced through every possible scenario.

"Open up! I want to come home!"

The familiar voice made my soul leap out of my body. It was Grant.

"This is not your home! Go away!" I shouted, trying to deepen my voice and speaking in the local language.

But the person outside sounded delighted.

"Cara, it's you, isn't it?"

"I know that's your voice!"

"I came for you. We'll be together, okay?" Grant's voice was full of desperate excitement.