I was so young, so confused, and so heartsick, I didn’t know what to think. Not to mention, I was suddenly famous.
Now, with her arm in mine again, I’m trying to remember all the reasons I can’t love her. But it’s impossible. The lavender is killing me. Or maybe making me delirious? I can’t not love her now when she’s this close.Letting her walk away without a fight was the biggest mistake of my life.
We reach the end of the aisle, and she pulls away, taking her place on the bride’s side of the altar without so much as a glance in my direction. Seeing her at the altar takes symbolism to a whole new level.
My heart is fully detonated.
five
Koren
The humidity meets me first, or rather, it meets my hair.
I’ve been staying at Kaci’s since I got back from Paris, but the movers came today to take her things to her new place. Which meant it was time for me to move too. I haven’t been back to my grandparents’ rustic, no-air-conditioning beach cabin since the night Elijah pleaded with me to elope. It probably wasn’t even real. I’d just found out I was moving to Paris for an internship. Teenage hormones had us convinced goodbye was forever, not just a school year. We’d been dating all of two months.
He didn’t have a ring, but he knew the way to my heart. He plucked a stem of lavender from the garden and tried to twist it into a ring. The stem was too woody to bend so small; it cracked but somehow didn’t break. I thought it was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.
I soulmated so hard.
Of course, I couldn’t wear it. Instead, I saved it, pressing it in my Bible, right over 1 Corinthians 13:4—the verse I wanted toread at our wedding. Shaking my head, as if that could release the pain of the memory, I stand on the porch with my rolling suitcase in one hand and a series of knots in my stomach.
Nothing has changed.
I don’t know what I expected. It’s only been a year, but coming back from Paris feels like stepping into another lifetime. The screen door opens with a moan like always. Inside, everything is exactly as I remember: the creaking wood floor, the faded gray couches that are so old, they appear in childhood photos of my mom.
I walk through the house the way I’ve done for years, but this time, everything my fingers brush sparks a memory of Elijah. The bottom step, where we slurped ice cream sandwiches at eight years old after my grandparents forced me to come inside from the pouring rain. The worn rug in the middle of the living room, where I beat him at Uno countless times. The squeaky hall closet door I avoided opening at night. I couldn’t risk waking my grandparents when sneaking out to meet him. Because we stored our shoes in that closet, the squeaky door was the lone cause of so many of my barefoot walks.
The knot in my stomach pulls tighter as I reach my bedroom door. I push it open. My grandmother’s patchwork quilt still covers my bed. It’s a tiny room and the only other piece of furniture is the nightstand.
I knew it was coming but a dagger still slices my heart. Next to my bed is my Bible and a framed photo ofus.
We were seventeen—my hair stringy and soaked. Both of us with sun-kissed faces, our smiles as wide as the sea. Arms linked, as the way we always were, even before we dated. It was like our bodies didn’t know any other way to be but shoulder to shoulder.
Well, except after we started kissing.
Then we learned other ways.
I shudder at the memory of how awkward it felt linking arms with him at the church. It was never supposed to be like this. I had truly believed he was my forever person. Turning from the photo, I pick up my Bible and thumb to Corinthians.
I guess I’m a sucker for torture. Maybe Kaci was right? I never got closure. With the way I feel my heartbeat in my throat, I have to get this over with before the wedding tomorrow or risk making a scene. I flip to my verse. My breath hitches in my chest.
My lavender ring is gone.
I scan the floor and turn, surveying the area around me. There’s nothing. Not a single petal of evidence remains. It’s as if it never existed.
Behind me, a voice pipes up. "Koren, when did you get here?” My mother’s voice is cheery, and she’s beaming at me. She holds her arms wide for a hug. It’s easy to smile at my sweet mom, even though my heart still trembles from discovering my ring is gone.
I didn’t want it.
It means nothing to me.
I also didn’t want it to be gone.
My heart does that thing when I think of or hear anything remotely tied to Elijah. It stutters and chokes, like it’s holding back something like heartbreak. It’s all I can do to not cry out in pain.
“I just pulled up.” I walk into her hug and inhale her unique scent of sun and flowers, accumulated from a lifetime of working at the floral shop.
“I looked at Kaci’s itinerary. It’s going to be busy. I’ll have Bella for the next three days.”
