I Made My Fiancé's Mistress My Bridesmaid

I figured Sienna would keep pretending for a while.

I was wrong. She lasted less than a day.

The next afternoon, I sat on the living room floor with three hundred wedding invitations spread across the rug. Cream cardstock. Gold foil. *Nathaniel Prescott and Audrey Lane request the honor of your presence.*

Marisol, our housekeeper, appeared in the doorway.

"Mrs. Prescott? There's a woman here to see you. She says she works with Mr. Prescott."

I set down the envelope in my hand.

"Does she have blonde hair?"

Marisol blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"Then let her in."

---

Sienna Caldwell stood in my foyer in a red dress that hugged every curve. The diamond necklace sat at her throat, catching the light from the window. She held a pink box with a satin ribbon.

"Mrs. Prescott! I hope I'm not intruding." Her voice was warm, like honey poured over ice. "I'm Sienna. From the PR team? Nathaniel has been so good to me lately. I just wanted to say thank you."

She held out the box. "Macarons. From Ladurée."

I took them and smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

"How thoughtful. Please, come in."

Inside my head, I called her a few names my mother would've washed my mouth out for.

Out loud, I said, "Can I get you some tea?"

---

She didn't sit right away. She drifted around my living room, touching nothing, noticing everything.

Her gaze climbed to the crystal chandelier. Then it landed on our engagement portrait above the fireplace. Nathaniel's arms were wrapped around me from behind. We were both laughing.

She studied it longer than she should have.

"You two look so happy." She turned. "You don't come by the office much, do you?"

"Not really. Nate's always saying how busy he is. I don't like to bother him."

"Oh, he works so hard." She sank onto the couch and crossed her legs. "Some days he doesn't even stop to eat. I have to remind him."

"I know." I poured her tea. "Yesterday he was busy all day long."

The cup paused halfway to her lips.

Her smile stayed in place, but something behind it went stiff, like a doll whose spring had snapped.

"Was he?" she said.

"Back-to-back meetings. On Valentine's Day, of all days." I sat across from her and tilted my head. "You must have been swamped too."

"Mm. Very."

That felt good. Better than it should have.

"So you two work late together a lot?"

Her shoulders loosened. She'd found her footing again.

"All the time. Honestly, I think I see him more than anyone." She laughed softly. "He takes his coffee black with one raw sugar. Never white sugar. And he's obsessed with those little lemon tarts from the bakery on Spring Street."

"Is he?"

"And he hasn't been sleeping well lately." She lowered her voice, like she was sharing a secret. "He gets these headaches around midnight. Did you know?"

I did know. He'd been out on the balcony at two in the morning whispering *sweetheart* into his phone. That would give anyone headaches.

I picked up a macaron and bit into it. Raspberry. Too sweet.

This woman fascinated me. Stealing my husband wasn't enough for her. She had to sit on my couch and prove she knew him better than I did.

"You really pay attention," I said.

"Someone has to." She set her cup down. "Actually, let me help with dinner. Please. Don't treat me like a guest."

There it was. She wanted to be in my kitchen. In my life.

I thought about it for two seconds.

"Marisol," I called. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off?"

Marisol looked between us, then nodded and slipped out.

---

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out a wicker basket. Carrots, beets, and leeks from the farmers market, still caked in dark, damp soil.

I set it in Sienna's arms.

"Since you're so eager to help, would you mind washing these?"

She stared down at the basket. A clump of dirt rolled off a beet and landed on her red dress.

She didn't move.

"Oh, and the sink sprayer sticks a little," I added. "You have to really push it."

"I..." Her manicured nails curled around the wicker. "Sure. Of course."

"You're two years older than me, right?" I leaned against the counter. "So I'm sure you're much better at taking care of people. No wonder Nate trusts you so much."

Her face went blotchy pink, from her neck all the way to her hairline.

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Her jaw worked like she was chewing glass.

Then she turned to the sink and yanked the faucet on.

I watched her scrub mud off a leek with her lips pressed into a thin white line. She wanted to scream at me. She wanted to throw that basket at my head.

She didn't dare.

For the first time in days, I hummed while I cooked.

---

At six-thirty, the front door opened.

"Babe? Something smells amazing—"

Nathaniel stopped in the kitchen doorway.

He saw me at the stove. Then he saw Sienna at the sink, her sleeves pushed up, dirt under her nails.

The color left his face so fast I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I'd known this man for twelve years. I had never seen him look like that. Like someone had pulled the floor out from under his expensive shoes.

I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over.

"Surprise!" I kissed his cheek. "Aren't you happy?"

His eyes jumped from me to her and back.

"I— Audrey, this is— She's—"

"Sienna came to thank you for being such a great boss." I squeezed his arm. "Isn't that sweet? She insisted on staying to help. She's so warm, Nate. I see why you like working with her."

Sienna turned off the water. "Hi, Nathaniel."

He swallowed hard. "Hi."

That was all he managed. One word.

I let him suffer three more seconds.

"I'll go pick a wine," I said brightly. "Something red. Sienna, you like red, don't you?"

I didn't wait for her answer.

On my way to the cellar stairs, I passed through the living room. I paused by the bookshelf and reached behind a row of architecture books. My fingers found the small black recorder I'd set up last week.

I pressed the button. A tiny green light blinked on.

Then I walked down the stairs and took my sweet time choosing a bottle.

---

When I came back up fifteen minutes later, Sienna was gone.

"She had to leave," Nathaniel said. He was setting the table, his voice smooth again. "Some emergency with her sister."

"What a shame. She didn't even get to eat."

"Yeah." He came over and took the wine from me. "Hey. You didn't have to entertain her like that. That was really kind."

"She's your coworker. Of course I was kind."

He smiled. That old, easy smile. Like nothing had happened.

---

That night, for the first time in months, he sat on the rug and helped me with the invitations.

He licked envelopes. He pressed gold seals onto the backs. He read the names out loud and made jokes about his Aunt Celeste.

Then he pulled me back against his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm going to make you so happy, Audrey," he murmured into my hair. "I promise. For the rest of our lives."

Vanilla and crushed flowers.

It was on his collar. On his neck. On the hands holding me.

My stomach rolled. I pressed my lips together until the feeling passed.

I wanted to turn around and ask him one simple question.

*When you held her in the kitchen after I left, did you promise her the same thing?*

But I didn't.

Not yet.

Exposing them now would be too easy. Too merciful. These two deserved much worse than a scene.

I leaned into him and closed my eyes.

"I know you will, Nate."

Downstairs, behind the books, a little green light was still blinking.

And I had a feeling that whatever it had caught in those fifteen minutes would change everything.