When my husband told me, “I invited my ex to your brother’s wedding. She’s basically family. If you trust me, you’ll get it,” I smiled and said, “Of course I do.” Then I secretly asked her husband to be my plus one. Let’s just say the rehearsal dinner became unforgettable for all the right reasons.
If you trust me, you’ll get why I invited Hannah to Adam’s wedding.
Elijah announced it at Sunday dinner, right between my mother passing the roasted potatoes and my father pouring his third glass of wine. My brother Adam’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. My future sister-in-law, Clare, kicked me under the table.
“Hannah,” Adam asked slowly, “your ex-girlfriend? To my wedding? The one I’m having next month?”
“She’s basically family,” Elijah said, sawing through his chicken like he hadn’t just hijacked my parents’ dining room. “You remember how close we all were.”
Nobody remembered, because it never happened. But I watched my husband construct this elaborate lie while my family sat frozen, and I heard myself say, “Of course, honey. I completely understand.”
What Elijah didn’t know was that I already had Isaac Morrison’s number—Hannah’s actual husband—saved in my phone since yesterday.
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The discovery had been accidental. Saturday morning, I’d been looking for a yoga studio in Tribeca when Hannah Morrison’s Instagram popped up in my suggestions. Same Hannah. Elijah’s ex, who’d supposedly moved to Seattle three years ago for some tech startup opportunity.
Except her recent posts were all tagged in Manhattan.
Brunches in SoHo. Morning runs in Central Park. And a wedding photo from two years ago with a man named Isaac Morrison—real estate developer—with the caption: “Two years with my forever.”
My mother recovered first, though her smile looked painted on. “Hannah… I’m not sure I remember.”
“Of course you do,” Elijah cut in, reaching for more green beans. “She helped organize your charity auction that time—the one for the library.”
My mother had never organized a charity auction. She volunteered at the library’s book sales, sure, but nothing fancy enough to need organizing. Yet she nodded slowly, confused, too polite to contradict him in front of everyone.
“Such a sweet girl,” Elijah went on, building his fiction brick by brick. “She’s been dying to see everyone again. Since she’s back in town for business, the timing is perfect.”
Clare squeezed my knee harder under the table. She’d been my friend before dating Adam. She knew our entire history. She knew Hannah had been gone from Elijah’s life long before he met me—the relationship that had supposedly been ancient history, barely worth mentioning during our early dating days.
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