Lost (Lost & Found #1) - Scarlett Finn

ONE

I do.

Those were the words the groom was supposed to say.

Bridesmaid Poppy Granger stood behind her sister, wondering why there was a hold up.

For two years, her sister Violet had been planning the wedding of the century. The dream event was the envy of all her friends. Whether married or single, society’s darlings held their breath, waiting for Holden Abernathy, multibillionaire, to say “I do” to Violet Granger.

I do.

It was really simple… so why the hell was the groom just standing there looking at her?

Holden’s gaze flicked away from her to land on his bride. “I’m sorry, Violet,” he said, filled with contrition. “I can’t marry you.”

A collective gasp of horror—mixed with perhaps a little delight—went around the church… Well, it was more like a cathedral in her opinion, though she’d been corrected on that point more than once. The building was huge and ornate. Filling it hadn’t been a problem when there were so many people eager to witness the match happen in real time. No one could’ve predicted the turn of events.

“Wha… what?” Violet asked.

Poppy’s heart went out to her. It couldn’t be easy to be jilted and that was exactly what was happening. Primrose, Poppy’s other sister, grabbed for her arm. They stood there, just two of many bridesmaids her sister had chosen to line up behind her, watching the moment unfold.

Maybe five hundred guests was seeming a little excessive now. She’d said it upon seeing the guest list for the first time. Then she’d shrugged it off. Even Poppy couldn’t have foreseen Holden’s last second change of heart.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” Holden said. “I can’t marry you.”

It took Violet another few seconds to locate her voice again. “You can’t… why not?”

Poppy couldn’t blame her sister for being exasperated. The asshole had plenty of chances to back out of the deal. Choosing that platform, practically on a stage, elevated in front of all their peers… yeah, asshole was an understatement.

“Because I’m in love with your sister.”

Poppy’s eyes widened as another gasp seized the room. Her instinct brought her focus around to Primrose who was staring right back, just as shocked.

“What the hell did you do?” Poppy whispered to Primrose.

Primrose and Violet were known for being competitive, but going for the same guy? Even Poppy wouldn’t have thought it of them.

“Me?” Primrose shrieked. “He’s looking at you!”

Poppy’s head snapped around to find that, yeah, Primrose wasn’t wrong.

“What?” Poppy asked in a burst of shock. “Me?”

“Poppy,” Holden said, stepping around Violet. “For years I’ve been watching you… seeing you bloom into an incredible woman—”

“Whoa,” she said, thrusting her bouquet his way, preventing him from getting too near. “That’s close enough. You’re marrying my sister.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “How can I do that when I feel this way about you? I didn’t know love could be so… overwhelming. So powerful in its draw. Yes, I should marry Violet, she’s the eldest, the closest thing your father has to an heir.”

“That’s what this was about?” Poppy snapped. “Money?”

“Everything is about money,” someone in the congregation muttered… someone who sounded an awful lot like her grandmother.

“Not with you,” Holden said, trying to come closer again. “With you, it’s all love, it’s all real.”

Poppy thrust the bridal bouquet toward him, pairing it with her own. Violet had handed her the flowers as she reached the altar just a few minutes ago. Her sister’s life had a path then, a glorious, optimistic path.

That path was crumbling fast.

“How could you do this to me?” Violet yelped and dashed up the aisle she’d glided down not too long ago.

Watching the cloud of silk and lace recede down the middle of the room through the sea of gawkers, Poppy was at a loss. Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t move even when the other bridesmaids started to disappear after the bride.

Her father was quick to leap up too. He grabbed for his mother and his wife, giving both of them a push to go after Violet. The room was alive. People were standing up, reaching over each other, talking, speculating.

Poppy just stayed there. Completely stunned.

Someone touched her, tearing her out of the daze. The man with his hand on her arm filled her with anger: Holden. Yanking it away from his entitled grip, Poppy threw the flowers to the floor. She didn’t even think before pulling back her fist and bringing it around to smack that disgusting glow of hope from his smiling face.

Whatever he thought there was to smile about,