Chapter 14 - Three Months Before the Wedding
Our wedding date arrived anyway.
Calendars don’t care what happens to plans.
The venue had been canceled.
Guests notified.
Flowers refunded.
My tuxedo remained in a garment bag.
Three months earlier, I had imagined standing beside Claire beneath white roses while Emma and Lily carried small bouquets.
Instead, on the morning I was supposed to get married, Lily woke me at 6:12 by jumping onto my bed.
“Pancakes.”
I opened one eye.
“It’s six.”
“Pancakes happen at six.”
“Who told you?”
“Bunny.”
“Bunny is becoming a bad influence.”
She gasped.
“Don’t say that.”
Emma appeared in the doorway.
“She’s been awake since five.”
“Why are you awake?”
“Because she was singing.”
Lily smiled proudly.
I got up.
We made pancakes.
Bad pancakes.
Maria entered halfway through and stared at the destroyed kitchen.
“I leave for one morning—”
“You’re fired,” I said.
She laughed.
“Again?”
Emma froze briefly.
Even jokes still had edges.
I saw it.
“Bad joke,” I said immediately.
Maria noticed too.
“Very bad.”
Lily poured syrup directly onto the table.
That solved the tension.
Later, Rachel called.
“Big day.”
“Apparently.”
“How do you feel?”
I looked through the window.
Emma and Lily were chasing each other near the pool.
“Lucky.”
Rachel went quiet.
“That wasn’t what I expected.”
“Me either.”
The wedding failure had uncovered everything.
That didn’t make Claire’s behavior fortunate.
Pain doesn’t need to become “worth it” to have consequences you learn from.
But I could acknowledge this.
If Toronto had been real, I might have married her.
That fact still frightened me.
At noon, Brennan visited.
“Claire accepted the agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“You told me not to involve you.”
“I didn’t realize that meant not informing me.”
He smiled.
“She’s pleading guilty to several financial and access-related charges in exchange for cooperation against Victor.”
“Sentence?”
“Court decides.”
“Fine.”
“She also signed a permanent no-contact agreement regarding the girls unless they request otherwise after adulthood.”
That gave me relief.
“And Victor?”
“Federal case. Strong.”
“Good.”
Brennan closed his folder.
“One more thing.”
I waited.
“You need to revise your estate plan.”
I laughed.
“Not today.”
“Fair.”
“But Rachel remains guardian.”
“She does.”
“Maria should have financial authority for education and household support if something happens to me.”
“We can structure that.”
“And no future spouse gets automatic control.”
Brennan raised an eyebrow.
“Planning ahead?”
“Learning.”
That evening, I took the girls to the beach.
No guards visible.
They were there.
I wasn’t reckless.
But I had spent years making security feel like imprisonment.
We watched sunset near Malibu.
Lily buried Bunny in sand until Emma yelled at her.
Emma collected shells.
I left my phone in the car.
At one point, Lily asked, “Were you supposed to marry Claire today?”
Children remember everything.
“Yes.”
“Are you sad?”
“A little.”
She studied me.
“You said you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t sad she was leaving.”
“What’s the difference?”
I thought.
“I’m sad about what I hoped things would be.”
Emma listened.
Lily nodded as though that made sense.
Maybe it did.
“Can we get ice cream?”
Grief processed.
Next issue.
“Yes.”
Emma smiled.
“Mom liked chocolate.”
“I know.”
“How?”
I looked at her.
“Your mother and I were married ten years.”
Emma laughed.
“I know that.”
“No, you asked how I knew.”
She rolled her eyes.
Nine-year-olds.
At the ice-cream shop, Emma ordered chocolate.
Lily ordered strawberry.
I ordered coffee.
We sat outside.
Emma asked about my first date with Elena.
Then our wedding.
Then the day she was born.
I told them stories I had avoided because I thought talking about Elena kept us trapped in grief.
Instead, the opposite happened.
The girls laughed.
Asked questions.
Corrected details they knew from Rachel.
Elena became part of life again instead of a locked room.
On the drive home, both girls fell asleep.
At a red light, I looked in the mirror.
Emma’s head leaned against Lily’s.
Bunny trapped between them.
I thought about the first camera footage.
Their hands reaching for each other.
Same closeness.
Different reason.
Before, they held each other because they were afraid.
Tonight, they were simply sisters asleep after too much sugar.
That distinction meant everything.
When we arrived home, Daniel stood outside.
His expression was serious.
I immediately tensed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing with the case.”
“Then what?”
He held out an envelope.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Old.
Elena.
Standing beside Maria.
Taken years earlier.
On the back, handwriting.
You should ask Maria what Elena made her promise.
I looked toward the house.
Just when I thought every secret had surfaced, someone had reached backward four years and placed my dead wife at the center of another question.
May you like
And this time, the secret belonged to Maria.
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