Then:
“You look like Mom’s wedding picture.”
That destroyed me.
My mother had worn a simple lace veil.
I had borrowed part of it.
“You look like Dad.”
Ethan immediately touched one cufflink.
“I know.”
We both cried.
Then he became serious again.
“Don’t cry too much.”
“Why?”
“Pictures.”
I laughed.
If only he knew.
The music changed.
Ethan straightened.
Then held out his arm.
“Ready?”
“No.”
His face fell.
“That’s wrong.”
I laughed harder.
“Sorry.”
I wiped my cheek.
“I’m ready.”
“Good.”
The chapel doors opened.
More than a hundred guests stood.
At the front, Adrian waited.
My mother was already crying in the first pew.
Two seats away sat Margaret.
I saw her.
Only for a second.
