The baker had read it, seen my name on the pickup, and assumed it meant me.
“You called the bakery,” I said.
She didn’t answer.
“You pretended to be Emma.”
“I called.”
“And told them not to give me the cake.”
“I told them not to release it to Laura,” she said. “That was me. I was Laura.”
“It was also me.”
Ryan stepped forward. His face was white.
“Did you really do that?”
“I was trying to get someone to listen to me.”
“By messing with our wedding?”
“I didn’t damage anything. The cake’s fine.”
“You impersonated my fiancée,” Ryan said. “You called a business and pretended to be Emma.”
She looked down at the floor.
“I knew the bakery would call somebody once there was a problem,” she said quietly.
And I understood her plan then. All of it.
“You knew I’d show up to get the cake,” I said.
