My sister was wearing my engagement dress.
At my restaurant. Across from my fiancé.
For three seconds, I stood outside the private dining room and watched the candlelight crawl over the silk I had chosen for my rehearsal dinner. The ivory dress fit Clara almost perfectly, except at the shoulders, where it strained like the truth trying to escape.
Evan reached across the table and touched her hand.
“Relax,” he said, smiling that soft, practiced smile I used to think was mine. “Maya won’t know.”
Clara laughed into her wine. “Maya never knows anything until someone explains it slowly.”
