I stumbled backward before either of them noticed me.
My heart was pounding hard enough to hear.
Three months earlier, I had stood at Adrian’s funeral believing I would never hear his voice again.
Now he was alive.
His mother knew.
And both of them had let me mourn him.
I turned and ran.
I barely reached the restroom before I started crying.
I locked the door and cried until breathing hurt.
Then my phone rang. My assistant was calling.
“Meredith? The coordinator’s looking for you. They’re about to start.”
I stared into the mirror.
My eyes were swollen. My mascara had streaked.
“Meredith? Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to take over?”
I thought about Adrian.
Alive. Smiling.
Preparing for another wedding while I had spent three months grieving him.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
I wiped my face and picked up my florist badge.
