Page 250 of The Right Wrong Promise

When he made his color choice, at first I wasn’t sure.

But he’s handsome and suave and he’d look good in anything.

If he was standing here in worn sweatpants and a jersey, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I’d take the hand he offers, just like I do now, locking his fingers around mine until it hurts.

Together, we face the altar, waiting for destiny.

It’scrazy how fast the biggest day of your life vanishes before you can blink.

After the reception, the band—minus Dan—takes over while the guests split up and file in for dinner.

We pose for photos.

Ethan razzes me and Dad tells me how proud he is of his baby girl.

Kane’s mother pinches her son’s cheek until I think she’ll leave a bruise.

Everything goes better than I imagined.

The only missing piece is Gramps, but not really.

There’s an empty seat at one table and a lit candle next to his portrait.

I can almost feel his hawkish eyes following us the whole time, finally at peace.

The same look he’d give me after those extravagant scavenger hunts as kids when I’d come in, show off his gifts, and he’d hold me up in his arms, always whispering,“That’ll do, darling May. That’ll do.”

This was his home once, half a decade ago.

Now, we went and made it ours, and even if he’s not here in person, even if he’s somewhere in the afterlife, his spirit lingers.

He’ll always be as real as the air we breathe.

And I think he’s lighter now, no longer this heavy, sad presence, just waiting for me to stumble over his secrets.

He’s just another soul who’s glad to have his beloved family back in one piece.

“Look.” Kane takes my hand just as I’m about to get out of my own head and thank a few more guests for coming.

He nods.

There, by the shore, beside an old log, I see Mom. She’s just a silhouette in the sunset, but there’s no mistaking the small bouquet of flowers clutched in her hands—or the meaning.

Roses for Gramps.

Her way of saying ‘apology accepted,’ and maybe goodbye.

For a second, I break, shoving my face into Kane’s chest to muffle my sobs.

“You’re okay, wife. We’reallokay now.”

“That’s… that was always his favorite spot,” I strangle out, nodding at the log. “I think maybe he used to sit there a lot with my grandma, too. I’ve seen a couple old photos where they’re there, their backs turned, just admiring the water.”

We watch Mom for a few more seconds, but it’s her moment.

I turn back to the reception area. Two huge gazebos and enormous tables of food. Dan keeps gorging himself on sweets long after dinner, and little Sophie tears up the dance floor, blissfully oblivious to her shuffling steps, all thanks to her beautiful shoes.