Chapter 1 - The Empty Place Beside Me
One hour before my wedding, my eleven-year-old daughter took off the lavender dress she had spent six months dreaming about.
When I found her, she was sitting on the edge of a hotel bed in a blue sundress, carefully folding a tissue into smaller and smaller squares.
Her bridesmaid dress lay across a chair.
The little pearl bracelet I had given her that morning rested on top of it.
“June?”
She looked up too quickly.
There was a smile on her face, but I knew my daughter’s real smile. It started in her eyes and usually arrived with something she couldn’t wait to tell me.
This one looked practiced.
“Why did you change, sweetheart?”
She glanced toward the window.
“I think I should sit with the other kids.”
I stood very still.
Outside, someone was testing the ceremony microphone. Through the open balcony door came the soft scrape of chairs being arranged on the lawn.
In less than an hour, I was supposed to marry Colin Mercer.
Until that moment, I had believed the most difficult part of the day would be walking down the aisle without crying.
“Did the dress hurt?” I asked. “We can fix the straps.”
“No.”
“Are you nervous?”
She shook her head.
I sat beside her, my wedding gown spreading across the carpet.
For six months, June had practiced walking me down the aisle.
She had chosen our hallway as the rehearsal space, placed a laundry basket where Colin would stand, and insisted we learn to match our steps.
“You walk too fast when you’re excited,” she had told me seriously.
“So do you.”
“Then we’ll remind each other.”
Now she would not look at the dress.
“Tell me what happened.”
Her fingers tightened around the tissue.
“Colin said it would be better.”
The room seemed to quiet around us.
“Better for whom?”
“For everybody.”
My best friend, Renee, looked up from the vanity. She had been fastening a ribbon around my bouquet.
June lowered her voice.
“He said weddings are really about the bride and groom. And his family might feel strange if I stood between you.”
“Why would they feel strange?”
“Because you were married to Dad when you had me.”
I heard Renee set down the bouquet.
My daughter hurried to fill the silence.
“It’s okay, Mom. I understand. You deserve a happy family.”
There are sentences you hear once and carry for the rest of your life.
That was mine.
I took her hands.
“June, look at me.”
She tried.
“You are my family.”
“I know. He just said this was a new family.”
“All three of us,” I said. “That was always the plan.”
Her mouth trembled.
“He said you might say that because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
I felt something cold settle beneath my ribs.
“When did he tell you this?”
“Monday. When you went to pick up the candles.”
Five days.
For five days, my daughter had carried this alone while I checked flower arrangements and answered messages about meal preferences.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He said it could be our surprise for you. That I was old enough to understand how much pressure you were under.”
She took a shaky breath.
“And he said you might cancel the wedding if I made you choose.”
“Choose between what?”
She finally met my eyes.
“Me and him.”
Renee turned away, pressing her hand over her mouth.
I pulled June into my arms.
She was still small enough to fit against me the way she had when thunderstorms frightened her, but her legs were longer now, and she smelled faintly of the peach shampoo she chose herself.
For months, I had worried about whether marriage would change our routines.
I had not understood that someone had already started changing them without me.
“You did nothing wrong,” I said into her hair.
“But if you get upset—”
“My feelings are mine to handle. You are allowed to tell me the truth.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Paige?” called Laurel, our wedding coordinator. “We need to confirm the processional.”
I kissed June’s forehead.
“Stay with Aunt Renee. I’m going to ask a few questions.”
Her hand closed around my wrist.
“You’re not mad at me?”
I crouched despite the gown.
“Not even a little.”
When I opened the door, Laurel stood holding a tablet and a printed schedule.
“Small timing adjustment,” she said. “Nothing serious.”
“May I see it?”
She handed me the paper.
Under Processional, my name appeared alone.
June’s name had been crossed out.
In the margin, someone had written:
Bride approved. Please direct all questions to groom.
I recognized Colin’s handwriting.
May you like
For the first time that morning, I stopped wondering whether we would begin the ceremony on time.
I wondered how much of my daughter’s life he had already decided to erase.
