My Groom Swapped Brides at the Altar So I Swapped Grooms in the Parking Lot Chapter 06

My Groom Swapped Brides at the Altar So I Swapped Grooms in the Parking Lot Chapter 06

The background noise on the other end of the line was enough to make Martha’s cheeks burn.

Brandon’s voice came through, impatient.

“What is it? Get to the point.”

“It’s just that… the room has… there’s something…”

Martha stammered, not knowing how to say it.

“Did Sloane blow a fuse and trash the room last night?”

Brandon cut her off.

“Clean it up. You don’t need to report every little thing. She’s been in a bad mood these past couple days. Just say some nice things to her. She’s soft-hearted. She’ll calm down.”

“But Mr. Astor, Sloane… she…”

“I’ve still got things to do.” Brandon did not let her finish. The line went dead.

Martha stood there, receiver in hand, frozen.

The wrinkled sheets.

The obvious marks all over the nightstand.

This did not look like a room wrecked in a fit of rage at all.

“So weird,” Martha muttered. “I’ll never understand rich people.”

She did not call back.

She just cleaned up in silence.

…

At seven that evening, Brandon’s sedan pulled up in front of Redwood Cottage.

He had finally carved out some time.

He figured he would swing by and check on Sloane.

Even the most understanding woman deserved a little sweetness after being left alone on her wedding night.

He pushed open the master bedroom door.

Empty.

“Where’s Sloane?” he asked, frowning.

Martha hurried over.

“She left this morning, sir. Said she was going to her family’s post-wedding brunch.”

Brandon pulled out his phone and dialed Sloane’s number.

Three rings.

Then voicemail.

He stared at the screen and let out a scoff.

So she was mad.

Fair enough.

Spending the wedding night alone, then attending the family brunch solo, anyone would need a couple of days to stew.

But she would get over it.

She always did.

The worst she could do was dodge calls and ignore texts.

He had plenty of ways to reel her back in.

He dialed his assistant.

“Send ninety-nine red roses to her uncle’s place. I want them there tonight. Before the day is over, so it still counts as a belated wedding-brunch gesture.”

He had never skimped on money or romance with his woman.

He hung up and sat down on the bed.

His eyes wandered lazily across the room.

Thinking of Sloane spending her wedding night alone in this huge house, he reached for the notepad on the desk, wondering if she had left him a note.

She had not written a single complaint.

Outside, at the entrance of her uncle’s hardware store, there was a handwritten card taped to the bulletin board.

Put up by Sloane’s uncle himself.

Next to it was a pinned photo.

A full dinner table.

Pot roast, pan-seared salmon, cream of mushroom soup, plates and silverware laid out neatly.

The composition told him it had been taken with that old Polaroid camera Sloane always used.

His lips curved upward slightly.

Then he read what the card actually said.

[POST-WEDDING BRUNCH. OUR NIECE AND HER HUSBAND CAME HOME. OVERJOYED!]