Two days before our wedding, I stood barefoot in the catering kitchen of a beautiful North Carolina estate, still wearing the white dress from our rehearsal dinner, and heard the man I was supposed to marry explain why he had chosen me.
said, “everything changes.”
“Yes.”
He kissed my head.
Then smiled at our reflections.
“We make sense, Claire.”
Those words hurt unexpectedly.
Not I love you.
We make sense.
Like a business merger.
A balance sheet.
Two matching columns.
I placed my hand over his.
For one final moment, I remembered the Ryan I’d believed I loved.
Lazy Sundays.
Road trips.
His hand resting against my lower back.
The night Mom died, when he sat with me on the kitchen floor because I couldn’t stop shaking.
Not everything had been false.
That was the hardest reality.
Leaving an obviously cruel person is easier.
Leaving someone who once showed genuine tenderness but later exploited your love is far more complicated.
Ryan had loved me in whatever limited way he understood love.
It simply hadn’t prevented him from using me.
“You should get some sleep,” I said.
He grinned.
“Big day tomorrow.”
“Yes,”
