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Nervous anticipation sizzles through me as my cell phone buzzes inside the hidden pocket of my bridesmaid gown. Please tell me it’s him.

I quickly take it out and swipe to the message.

Emerson

I won’t lie and tell you this is going to be easy—the trail has most likely gone cold, but I’ll take the case.

My fingers shake as I type out a response.

Taylor

Thank you. Please keep this between us.

Emerson

That goes without saying. Privacy is a requirement in my line of work.

A few dots appear on the screen.

Emerson

And Taylor…I’m sorry about what happened to you. We will get the bastards.

A lump forms in my throat as I stare at the message from him and I grip my phone tightly in my hands and rake in a ragged inhale.

It’s the first time anyone has ever acknowledged what happened to me without doubt, suspicion, or derision.

He’s not like Alexis or Camden, the cops or that shitty therapist. He didn’t reject me.

I was expecting the pain of dismissal and rejection from Emerson Clarke, the private investigator who helped Grace in the past and is one of the best in his field. I thought he’d take one look at the paltry information I’d gathered and brush me off.

A glimmer of hope flickers inside me. Maybe luck is finally on my side, because he’s going to find out what happened all those years ago.

“Tay, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Millie tucks a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear as she stares at me with concern.

I wipe away my expression. “What? Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking about walking around in this getup.” I smirk and gesture at our deep burgundy bridesmaid gowns—all designs from McKenzie’s Atelier, because there’s no way Belle would let us wear any other brand. “This is not exactly my style.”

“Come on—they are gorgeous! I picked them out specifically for you guys!” Belle complains and pouts at me, but her eyes are shining with laughter. “Millie gets the sexy thigh high slit that’ll drive Ryland insane. I get the sweetheart neckline with the hidden bustier because I don’t have massive boobs like you guys.”

She points to her chest for emphasis. This woman must be delusional because she is gorgeous with her perfectly proportioned curves, her porcelain skin, and straight black hair, thanks to her mom, who’s an Asian supermodel.

Belle then narrows her eyes at me. “And you, Ms. Badass Ballerina, you get the boatneck gown with sleeves since I know you like to cover yourself up, which makes no sense to me because why wouldn’t you flaunt that?” She gestures to my body and sighs. “But never fear. McKenzie’s designs are gorgeous, no matter the cut, and you look ravishing. Too bad there isn’t a guy you’re trying to impress.” She snorts.

A flash of blond hair and intense blue eyes barrels into my mind.

It has to be the love in the air impacting common sense because there is no way I’m trying to impress Charles Vaughn even if he were the last man on earth.

“Tay is trying to impress someone? Is that what I hear?” Grace sweeps into the living room of the bridal suite inside The Orchid and we all gasp in surprise.

“You look so beautiful!” I marvel.

Tears spring into my eyes as I take in my sister, who looks otherworldly in her cream-colored silk wedding dress—an elegant A-line silhouette with gentle pleating and a long train reminiscent of royal brides. Her hair is pinned up in a low, twisted chignon bun with springs of baby’s breath pinned as decoration.

The girls fuss over her, all exclaiming how gorgeous she is, but all I can do is stand before her, rooted to the ground, my heart pounding with so many emotions, I’m afraid they’ll all explode from me at the same time.

Mom, if you’re looking down at us, you must be so happy. Your beautiful, intelligent daughter is getting married to a man who worships the ground she walks on. It’s everything you would’ve wanted for her.

I press my lips together in a tight smile at Grace, fighting a tremble that threatens to make itself known—the impulse to cry, to laugh, to pull her into my arms, emotions swirling together into something indecipherable.

At least one of us got our happily ever after.

The women in my family haven’t been lucky in love—Mom with her string of broken relationships before she died and me…well, I don’t think love is in my cards. But I’m glad that isn’t the case with Grace.

Grace seems to sense my thoughts and I see the same unshed tears in her eyes as she glides forward and pulls me into her arms. “I wish Mom were here,” she whispers.

I sniffle, my heart full of love for her and also battling with the wave of unexpected grief hitting me from the side. My voice is thick as I whisper, “She is here. I can feel her. I’m so happy for you, Grace. So, so happy. You deserve all the love and joy in the world.”

She hugs me tighter. “And so do you, Tay. I know you hold your cards close to your chest, and don’t think I don’t see past the grumpy persona of yours. You’re the best sister a girl could ever ask for.”

My vision blurs as I pull back, seeing her smiling at me. I let out a ragged exhale before rubbing my nose piercing—a red heart today. “Damn right I am. I don’t wear a red dress and give out hugs just for anyone.”

Grace laughs and a stray tear leaks from her eyes, which she quickly wipes away. She takes my hand and squeezes it gently, her expression sobering. “ Nothing will change between us. Sisters forever.”

The lump in my throat grows as I watch Belle and Millie pull her toward the window, shrieking about her ruining her makeup.

I stand there, looking at the three women I love the most in the world, the joy radiating from their faces almost contagious. All three of them are so in love with their men, wonderful men who are equally enthralled with them.

And I feel bereft.

Things are going to change now . Even if they say it won’t.

Soon, they’ll be talking about pregnancies and kids and I’ll still be here, unable to form a meaningful connection with anyone, unable to move on.

I’m being left behind.

The thoughts immediately crush me. Wordlessly, I open the door to the suite and slip away.

Invisible.