The night before the wedding, our house was still full of flowers, garment bags, gift boxes, and half-finished conversations.
My mother had spent most of the evening checking lists.
“Don’t stay up too late,” she told me.
My father had kissed the top of my head and said he would see me at breakfast.
Callum was not supposed to be there that late.
That was what made me notice his car.
I had gone downstairs because I wanted water.
My nerves had made sleep impossible.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the church doors opening and nearly 200 faces turning toward me.
I remember standing in the kitchen in my socks, staring out the dark window above the sink.
Callum’s car was parked near the side of the house.
For a moment, I smiled.
I thought he had come to leave me a note.
He did things like that.
Then I heard voices near my father’s study.
The door was mostly closed.
I could hear Callum inside.
So was my mother.
I moved closer without meaning to.
I only heard one sentence.
“If Eloise finds out what happened that night, the wedding is over.”
My mother’s voice.
I stopped breathing.
