Ethan is a whirl

of coffee I haven' t touched. He wraps his ar

future Mrs

yard, the flowers, the life we're going to build. He even m

llow feeling ech

ing my quietness. "Hey, you

manage to say.

t you worry about a thing. I've got it all

no idea that every cheerful word, every promise for the

r a wedding that will never happen. I watch him, a gh

er from our first picnic, and the worn-out copy of his favorite book he gave me on our first annive

e comes back, his eyes

es," he says,

im move something large a

open

r seen. It' s the designer gown from the boutique downtown, the one I' d admired but

" I whisper, m

e sheepishly. "I

his old life, the only thing he managed to keep. He loved that c

thing is more important than you. I've waited five years for our wed

the air from my lungs. He sold his past f