“I did.”
His face crumpled.
Maybe the pain was real.
That was the hardest part.
People like Evan are easier to understand if you imagine every feeling they have is fake.
I don’t think his were.
I think he loved me.
I also think he believed loving me entitled him to control which truths I was allowed to know.
Security escorted him away from the reception.
Not Vanessa.
Him.
My wedding guests did not know what to do after that.
Neither did I.
My mother took me into the bridal suite.
I sat on the floor in a dress that cost more than my first car and stared at my bare finger.
Vanessa waited outside.
Eventually, I asked her to come in.
She stood near the door.
“I am sorry,” she said.
I laughed.
It came out sounding broken.
“You wore red to my wedding.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She looked down.
