Before You

The morning of the wedding, Honey put on a simple, non-descript, long-sleeved white dress, which she had found in a secondhand shop in Boston a few weekends before. Andrew wore a dark suit. And because she wanted to experience the entire day with her husband, they left their condo together, and they got in the back of the limo Andrew had rented.

When they arrived at the park, their immediate family, Valentine, and Andrew’s best friend were all waiting. Since they were the only guests, they walked as a new family to the lighthouse, and the officiant stood before the couple and began his speech.

Once it came time to exchange rings, Honey didn’t want to put Andrew’s band on the finger he had shared with his ex-wife. She wanted a new hand, a new placement, a new memory. That was why Andrew’s wedding band went on his right.

When it was Andrew’s turn, he held Honey’s hand, slipping the traditional one on first, followed by her engagement ring. He didn’t let go, producing one more that he held at the tip of her nail, slowly sliding it on, stopping when it hugged the other side of her diamond.

“If this is what I’m wearing on my left hand,” he said, “I want you to have one that matches.”

It was smaller, thinner, more delicate than his father’s band, but there was no mistaking the gold braid-like weaving across the front.

When she looked up at her husband, she had tears in her eyes. “I love it.”

“I love you.”

Honey felt herself blush as she stared at the man she was in the middle of marrying. The man who had fixed her when she was in an immense amount of pain. The man who had been loyal to her since he came into her life. The man who had put not one, but three rings on her finger.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said. “You may kiss the bride.”

“Forever,” Andrew whispered to her.

Honey smiled, feeling it reach all the way to her eyes. “Forever.”

THIRTY-THREE

BILLIE

MY HANDS SHOOK the entire four blocks to the coffee shop. That was what they had been doing since I received Jared’s text this morning. His message had come out of nowhere, and I still wasn’t sure what to think of it. But the thought of spending time with him in an environment that wasn’t related to the crash had created this anxious energy that had been pulsing through me all day.

When I got through the door of the shop, I spotted him immediately. He was sitting in the corner at a small table, facing the entrance with his back to the wall.

Our eyes connected.

The flutter in my chest was there, but what joined it was a calm I didn’t feel when I was with Ally or my family. It was something I only felt when I was with him.

With his stare on me, I made my way to the table. He stood as I got closer and stepped forward, meeting me at my chair. We reached for each other at the same time.

“Hi,” I said softly, my arms wrapping around his neck.

This hug was different than the one we’d had in the hallway. It was shorter, and he didn’t grip me as tightly. Just as I was feeling comfortable in his arms, he pulled away.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as I sat in the seat across from his.

His eyes narrowed. I felt him see all the way to the pit of my stomach, and I wondered if he saw the crash—the blood that had covered us, the screams that had come from my mouth, the feeling of my hands clinging to him.

Or maybe when he looked at me, he just saw me.

Without breaking eye contact, he raised his hand and called out, “Sue?” Within a few seconds, a woman came to the table. “Do you mind grabbing my friend Billie some coffee?”

“What can I get you?” she asked me.

Every coffee order I’d ever made was a jumble of words in my head. “I’ll take anything, just not too sweet.”

He waited until she left before he said, “It’s been a couple of days since I saw you. How have you been?”

It was almost overwhelming to be in his presence again, especially after thinking it wouldn’t happen for a long time, if ever.

I didn’t have an answer, so I looked out the window. People were passing. All of them moving so quickly.

And I … still wasn’t.