for the venue in like an hour.”
I studied my daughter’s face—the face I’d memorized as a newborn, kissed better after countless childhood injuries, watched mature into beautiful adulthood.
The same face that had twisted with contempt just hours ago as she publicly rejected twenty-eight years of maternal devotion.
“There’s been a change of plans, Amber,” I said quietly.
“The wedding has been canceled.”
Her expression froze, then transformed into something between horror and rage.
“What are you talking about? Canceled? That’s not— You can’t.”
She pushed past me into
