Page 33 of Claimed By The Other Brother

Jane squeezes my arm.

"I'm sure he's just running late. Getting ready with his guys."

Minutes pass. The music continues. The guests are all seated now, turning in their chairs to look toward the entrance, expecting the ceremony to start.

At that very moment, Christina, my wedding coordinator, appears from around the corner. Her face is pale, her expression stricken.

"Christina?" I call out.

She hurries over, and I can see panic in her eyes.

"Scarlett, I… I was looking for you—" She glances at my father, at Jane and Sarah.

"Miles isn't here."

The words don't make sense. "What?"

"He never showed up to wardrobe or hair." Christina's voice is shaking.

"We've been calling him, but he's not answering."

The corridor tilts. I reach out and grab Jane's arm to steady myself.

"What do you mean he's not here?.. Is he ok?"

"I don't know," Christina says helplessly. "I don't know where he is."

Inside the ballroom, whispers are starting. Guests turning to each other, confused murmurs rising.

My chest tightens. I can't breathe.

"Well, call him," I say, my voice coming out too loud.

"Call him right now. And keep calling him."

I can feel the chunks rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold my bouquet. Jane and Sarah are staring at me with horror on their faces, their bridesmaid dresses suddenly looking absurd in the face of this disaster.

"My phone," I gasp. "Jane, where's my phone?"

"I have it." Jane fumbles in the small bag she's carrying and pulls out my phone with trembling fingers.

"Call him," I say. "Call Miles right now."

Jane's fingers shake as she dials. She presses the phone to herear. We all wait, frozen.

No answer.

"Try again," I demand.

Jane tries again. Nothing.

"Sarah." My voice cracks. "You try."

Sarah pulls out her own phone and dials Miles. We wait. The phone rings and rings and goes to voicemail. Inside the ballroom, I can see the groomsmen making frantic calls. Eric has his phone pressed to his ear, his face grave.

I look toward the front row and see Dax sitting next to Barbara. They're both turned in their seats, looking back toward the corridor where I'm standing. Even from here, I can see the concern on Barbara's face, the tension in Dax's jaw.

Then both of them stand. Barbara's hand comes to her mouth. Dax's expression darkens. They start walking toward the back of the ballroom, toward where I'm standing in the corridor.