For once, nobody gave it to her.
So she had to choose for herself.
Finally, she nodded.
Brooke stepped forward and handed Paige a small bouquet. Later, she told me she had kept one aside because she “had a weird feeling.” That was Brooke’s way of saying she had been ready to hit my sister with flowers if necessary.
The chapel laughed softly when Paige took the bouquet and whispered, “Thank you.”
It was the first breath of warmth in the room.
Pastor Reynolds returned to his place.
“Now,” he said gently, “shall we begin again?”
And we did.
My father walked me down the aisle with wet eyes and an unsteady arm. When he gave me away, he did not say much. He simply kissed my forehead and whispered, “Your mother would be proud.”
For the first time in my life, I believed he meant both of us.
The ceremony was not perfect.
My voice cracked during my vows. Ethan cried before I did. Paige sniffled through half the prayer. A toddler in the third row yelled, “Why is everybody sad?” and made the entire church laugh.
But it was real.
More real than the perfect wedding I thought I wanted.
When Ethan and I turned to face our guests as husband and wife, the sunlight broke through the stained-glass windows and fell across Paige’s dress.
White, blue, gold.
A dress that had entered the chapel as a weapon had become a confession.
At the reception, people were careful at first.
They did not know whether to congratulate me or apologize.
My aunt Margaret was the first to approach.
“That was very mature of you,” she said.
I almost laughed.
Mature.
A word people use when they benefit from your pain but don’t want to name it.
But I only said, “It was necessary.”
She nodded like she understood.
She didn’t.
Not fully.
But that was okay.
Not everyone needs to understand your healing for it to be real.
Paige disappeared after dinner.
For a moment, I thought she had left.
Then I found her outside behind the venue, sitting on the stone steps under a string of lights. The blue scarf was still around her shoulders. Her bouquet rested beside her.
She looked up when she heard me.
“I was going to leave,” she admitted.
“I figured.”
“But then I thought that would make everything about me again.”
