Chapter 3

At two in the afternoon, the wedding coordinator called.

She sounded hesitant and uncomfortable. "Ms. Winters, about the menu and the music for the reception. Mr. Carter sent over a change request."

I leaned against the couch with a book I hadn't opened in a long time. "Changed to what?"

She replied, "The allergy-free menu you chose has been replaced with a dessert tower Ms. Evans recommended. It uses a lot of peanut butter and crushed hazelnuts."

The coordinator paused and lowered her voice. "I remember you said you have a severe peanut allergy, and that even a trace could put you into shock.

"I raised it with Mr. Carter. He said Ms. Evans loves desserts, and if it's a problem we can bring you a plain soup on the side."

My fingers tightened on the pages until my knuckles went white.

A severe peanut allergy.

Once, I accidentally ate a cookie with crushed peanuts in it. I couldn't breathe, and I spent three days and nights in the ICU.

Ryan sat by that hospital bed and cried like a child, and he swore that as long as he was in the room, there would never be a peanut anywhere near me.

Now, so Chloe could have the dessert tower she wanted, he waved it off with one line about bringing me a bowl of soup.

"What about the music?" I asked, and my voice was calm enough to frighten me.

She replied, "The processional you chose was Leonard Grant's Starlight. Mr. Carter said it's too heavy and it's bad luck.

"Ms. Evans suggested Chasing the Light, the one their college choir used to sing, and Mr. Carter already agreed."

Starlight was my parents' favorite song. It's the only piece of them I have left.

I had imagined it a hundred times. When that song came on at my wedding, I could pretend they were in the room, watching me walk down the aisle.

Ryan used to hold me and kiss the tears off my face and say, "Renee, on our wedding day, I'll hold your hand so your parents can rest easy."

Now, because Chloe called it heavy, twelve years of missing them got pushed into the mud.

"Ms. Winters? Are you still there?" the coordinator asked carefully.

I closed my eyes and pushed the ache back down. "I'm here. Change it however Ryan wants."

"You're all right with it?"

"I am." The corner of my mouth lifted. "It makes no difference whose choice wins."

Not long after I hung up, a message from Ryan came in.

Ryan: [I had Chloe polish the music and the menu for you. She studied art, so her taste is better than yours. Don't read into it. I want our wedding to be perfect.]

Ryan: [I'm taking Chloe out for dinner tonight. I'll bring you back your favorite steak. Stay home and wait for me, and stop being emotional.]

I read those lines, and it went past ridiculous.

He hadn't offered one word of apology. He was still handing down comfort from somewhere above me.

I didn't answer him.

I opened my phone and called the airline and the immigration agent.

I said, "Hello, this is Renee Winters. The Norland work visa I applied for came through, correct? Please book me a one way ticket for ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow."

Ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow.

That was the exact time Ryan's wedding convoy was supposed to leave.

While he was putting on a suit to collect his bride, I would be thirty thousand feet up, leaving his world for good.