Karissa stays quiet, watching me, waiting for me to say more.
“The tipping point came in February. I was leaving for the sportsman show in Pennsylvania; it’s nearly two weeks long.And anyway, when I left, we weren’t in a good place. She practically begged me not to go. But I couldn’t just bail on the business. It’s my job—our future—and she knew that but still made me feel so stuck.”
I pause, jaw clenching. “And when I came back…she was different. Sweet again. Forgiving. Said she wanted to move on. Fix things. I was relieved.”
I swallow hard. “And then that night, we got a little carried away. We slept together. Up until that point, we had been waiting.”
Something in Karissa’s eyes shift. Like she maybe knows where this is going but is still curious to find out.
I shrug. “We were getting married in April. It didn’t feel completely wrong, just…taboo. But I brushed it off.”
I laugh once under my breath, even though there’s nothing funny about what I’m about to say next.
“A few weeks later, she told me she was pregnant.”
Karissa’s eyes widen, but I keep going, glancing down at the floor. I’ll never forget the way my stomach dropped when those words left her mouth. We had less than two months until our wedding and weren’t sure how we’d cover it up until then.
— Seven Years Ago —
I’m standing at the altar, palms sweating, trying to act normal even though my shirt’s sticking to my back and my heart won’t calm down.
The church is full. Family on both sides. Friends. Neighbors. My mom’s in the front row dabbing her eyes, Mason and Jesse behind me in suits that look ridiculous on them.
The piano builds, and everyone stands.
My eyes are on the double doors, waiting.
They don’t open. I shift my weight. Seconds pass. The pianist loops the intro again; you can tell it’s not planned, but there’s still no Bree.
Jesse leans toward me. “Give it a minute,” he whispers.
I nod stiffly, trying to believe him. My eyes stay glued to the back of the room. I think, maybe she tripped, or she’s fixing her veil, or someone said something stupid to her that made her cry.
But then Jesse slips out a side door and Mason follows.
I stand there alone. People start whispering, staring at me like I should know what’s going on.
My fingers twitch at my sides. Every second stretches longer, heavier, tighter around my throat.
Finally, Mason comes back. His face is pale. His eyes trying to speak before he can.
“She’s gone.”
That’s all he says. I don’t respond, I just move.
Out the auditorium, through the hall, into the classroom she was in with the bridesmaids. Her bouquet’s on a table. A tissue balled up on the floor. But no Bree.
I call her phone. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail.
My stomach is in my socks. My chest is numb.
And then someone says, “Cody…this was left for you.”
It’s an envelope. My name scribbled across the front in her handwriting. I don’t breathe, just tear it open right there with shaking hands. Inside is a single folded sheet of notebook paper.
Dear Cody,
I know you deserve someone brave enough to say these things to your face. But I’m not.
