And every time someone said, “I’m so sorry,” I had nodded as if I were the only person in the world who had ever lost someone.
But Adrian wasn’t dead.
He was upstairs.
Alive.
Getting married.
And somehow, I was supposed to keep arranging flowers as if none of it mattered.
I looked at my reflection one last time.
“Fine,” I whispered.
“If this is the game you’re playing, Adrian, I’ll play.”