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.
