put the phone aside. Five minutes later another message appeared:
Claire. I asked you a question.
The punctuation was familiar after twenty-seven years. That sharp period meant he still assumed I answered to him. He could arrive with another woman and somehow expect an accounting of my companions. I preserved both messages, sent screenshots to Melissa, and silenced my phone.
Saturday morning, with the wedding ceremony scheduled for two, relatives had gathered around breakfast. Aunt Ruth ate yogurt. Michael made a spectacularly bad waffle. Allison was upstairs preparing with her
