Page 85 of Only Be Mine

The caterer.

The church secretary, calling to confirm arrival times, seating arrangements, whether I preferred the unity candle or the sand ceremony.

The world was still expecting a wedding.

I let the calls go unanswered. Let the voicemail notifications pile up like unopened mail. If I didn’t listen, didn’t respond, maybe time would stall with me. Maybe May 17 would stay unfinished.

It didn’t.

Baby nudged her nose into my ribs, whining softly. She’d been glued to me since dawn. Since before dawn, really - restless, pacing, ears twitching at every sound. She kept going to the door, then back to me, tail low, confused.

“He’s not coming,” I whispered, my voice scraping my throat raw. “I know.”

She pressed her head into my chest, her weight solid and warm and alive. I wrapped an arm around her and buried my face in her fur, breathing her in.

She smelled like grass and sleep and John.

That nearly broke me.

A knock sounded at the door. Gentle at first. Then firmer.

“Cate?” Amy’s voice. “It’s me.”

I didn’t answer, but the door opened anyway.

She moved quietly, like she was afraid of spooking me, setting a coffee cup on the table I didn’t touch. She hovered for a moment, then sat beside me on the couch.

“You don’t have to do anything today,” she said softly. “You hear me? Nothing.”

I nodded, though it wasn’t true. There were already footsteps outside. Car doors closing. Voices.

They came anyway.

John’s parents arrived first.

His mother cried the second she saw me, folding me into her arms like if she held tight enough, she could keep me here - keep all of us here - before this split open completely. His father stood behind her, stiff and hollow-eyed, like a man bracing for impact that never came.

They asked questions I couldn’t answer.

Had I heard anything?

Did the police say anything new?

Was there somewhere else he might have gone?

I shook my head until it felt loose on my neck.

Food appeared on the counter. Casseroles. Pastries. Someone put flowers in a vase without asking. The smell of coffee, sugar, grief layered over one another until my stomach turned.

The dress was still upstairs.

I could feel it, like a presence. Waiting.

Another knock.

Seth and Jim came next. Then friends. Neighbors. People who didn’t know what to say but felt they should be there anyway.

And then Lindsay walked in.