I returned to my work, placing the final roses along the head table and checking the arrangements near the altar. My hands moved automatically, but my mind was racing.
Why had Adrian faked his death?
Why had his mother helped him?
And who was the woman waiting to marry a man who had supposedly been buried three months earlier?
At last, the ceremony began.
Guests took their seats. Music filled the room. Colleen walked proudly down the aisle, wearing a beautiful blue dress and the corsage I’d made for her.
She looked like a woman who had nothing to hide.
I wondered how she’d managed to stand beside my coffin-shaped grief and tell me how sorry she was.
The doors opened.
Adrian appeared.
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