Amelia ran a thumb over the glossy surface of a photograph. Her mother, radiant in lace, was laughing—a genuine, head-thrown-back kind of laugh—while her father looked on, eyes filled with an adoration that was almost palpable even decades later. They were framed by a cascade of baby's breath and a warm, late-afternoon glow. They were happy. They were lost in each other.
She closed the heavy, velvet-bound album with a soft thud. Two days. In 48 hours, she would be standing in a similar room, wearing a white dress, making vows to Austin. The vision should have been comforting, a beautiful certainty, but instead, it felt like standing on the edge of a great, silent canyon.
A knot tightened in her stomach. She loved the idea of Austin. He was handsome, stable, successful, and everyone ad
