Best Man for the Wedding Planner

“That’s nice, but what about the wedding shots?”

“Oh, we’ll get to those.” She brought up another, which was a candid shot of Adele and Dan by the chairs. Adele was threading navy satin through the rungs, and Dan was holding another swath of fabric in his hands.

“Seriously,” Adele chided, the butterflies growing. “Did you take any pictures of the bride and groom?”

Harper laughed and looked up at her. “Oh, hundreds. Hang on. There’s another few I want you to see.”

The few included one of them loading the ice sculptures together, followed by one where Adele was off to the side, speaking to a bridesmaid and smiling, while Dan looked on.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, until she looked at Dan’s face.

Harper knew the moment she got it, because she said, “That is not the face of a man who doesn’t care. Damn, girl. That’s longing right there.”

Heat rushed into Adele’s cheeks. “Don’t be silly.”

“You’re blushing. What’s going on?” She pushed her chair back. “Have you seen him again?”

Adele didn’t answer, but she had never had a good poker face. “You have,” Harper said, leaning back in her chair. “Stay here. I’m going to make tea. And you’re going to tell me everything.”

While Harper went to the corner of the room that held a microwave, bar fridge and kettle, Adele stared at the picture on the monitor and wondered what Harper would say if she knew the truth.

Since telling Dan, she’d felt so much lighter. Without this deep, dark secret following her around. She couldn’t imagine Harper being judgy about it. But she might offer a little bit of perspective where Dan was concerned. It wasn’t as simple as rekindling something, no matter what the photo seemed to imply. It was complicated, and the biggest issue of all wasn’t fixable.

Harper came back with a steaming mug of mint tea and put it in front of Adele. “You look like your brain hurts,” Harper commented, sitting back in her chair. “What’s going on?”

Adele blew on her tea. “So, I did see Dan the other day. He asked me to lunch to apologize.”

“After the fruit basket?”

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t go well, I take it.”

She sipped the tea. The mint was fresh and calming—just what she needed. “It started off okay. But ended with a big argument and talking about how our relationship ended.” She took a big breath and met Harper’s gaze. “I finally told him why I left. It was...difficult.”

Harper was quiet for a moment. “I take it this is more than I already know.”

Adele nodded. “More than I’ve ever said out loud to anyone. And I’m glad we talked. It was one of the hardest afternoons I’ve had since...well, since we broke up.” And that was saying something. There’d been plenty of difficult afternoons during her illness.

Silence fell for a few minutes and then Harper put her hand over Adele’s. “I can tell this is something really hard for you. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I know there are some things that are too painful to put into words.”

Adele wondered what she meant, or how she knew, but it did make her feel better. Safe. She looked into her best friend’s eyes and saw compassion and acceptance. And also strength. She nodded and said the words for the second time that week.

“I can’t have children. I had cancer.”

Harper’s eyes softened and she gave a small nod. “I see. I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay. I had cervical cancer and they had to take my uterus. Then I had radiation.”

“God.” Harper reached over and took Adele’s free hand. “This was when you were twenty-one?”

“Yeah. Nearly twenty-two.”

“And you were alone.”

Harper already knew about Adele’s difficult relationship with her mother. Adele hadn’t seen her in three years now. “Pretty much,” Adele admitted.

“And this is why you broke up with Dan?”