So I left her alone.
I stopped calling after the third unanswered message.
I stopped checking whether she had viewed the photos I sent.
I told myself she would reach out when she was ready.
She never did.
Until Saturday.
My cousin Elowen was getting married at a hotel outside Boston.
I almost skipped the wedding.
For weeks, I had been dreading it.
I was happy for Elowen, but weddings had become landmines.
Every detail reminded me of something Andrew and I had planned.
The music.
The flowers.
The first dance.
Even []hearing someone say, “The groom is ready,” made my throat tighten.
Elowen understood.
She called me two days before the ceremony and told me I did not have to come.
“I’ll understand, Davina,” she said softly. “I mean that.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything.”
There was a pause.
“Then come only if you want to.”
I did.
Part of me wanted to know if I could survive being at someone else’s wedding.
So on Saturday afternoon, I put on a dark green dress Andrew had once told me made my eyes look brighter.
I almost changed when I remembered him saying that.
Instead, I stayed in it.
The ceremony was beautiful.
Elowen cried before she even finished her vows.
Her husband laughed through his own tears and squeezed her hands.
I cried too.
Not only because I was happy for her.
I kept imagining Andrew standing in front of me.
By the reception, I had recovered enough to talk to relatives and force down half a plate of food.
The hotel ballroom was crowded and warm.
Glasses clinked.
Music rolled from the speakers.
My aunt was already trying to drag people onto the dance floor.
For the first time in three months, I laughed without immediately feeling guilty.
Then I looked toward the hallway.
And saw Clementine.
At first, I thought I was imagining things.
She was moving quickly along the edge of the ballroom, almost hidden behind a row of tall floral arrangements.
I froze.
It had to be someone else.
Clementine didn’t know Elowen.
As far as I knew, they had never even met.
Then she looked over her shoulder… and hurried through a door marked bridal suite.
A knot formed low in my stomach.
I stared at the door.
Clementine had no reason to be there.
