Texas Wedding
Susannah Everly Maxwell had been hiding in the bathroom for half an hour. For a bride on her wedding night, that was at least twenty-nine minutes too long.
She'd left the shower on, hoping Trent would assume she was still bathing, and the cascade of warm water had turned the room into a sauna. The towel knotted at her breasts hung heavily, saturated with moisture. Steam smothered the mirror, forming a blank screen of mist.
She knew she should go out into the bedroom, where her new husband was waiting, but she couldn't force herself to do it.
Her new husband…
None of this seemed real. Reaching out one fingertip, she began to write on the glass.
Mrs…. Trent… Maxwell…
She'd penned the name a thousand times, in the turquoise ink she'd loved back in high school. But before she could finish the last syllable, the condensation pooled and began to run. It was like trying to write with tears.
Her reflection appeared in the open spaces, fractured into a collection of mismatched parts. Ironically, this stranger draped in the white towel, wreathed in clouds of steam, looked more like a bride than she had this afternoon at the courthouse.
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