“I’m working. I’m the florist.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Why?”
Before she could answer, a wedding coordinator hurried toward us.
“Ms. Colleen, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. The groom needs his mother.”
I stared at Colleen.
For a moment, that seemed to explain everything.
Adrian had an older brother, Julian.
Of course.
This must be his wedding.
Julian and I had always gotten along well.
He had been quieter than Adrian, but he was kind to me.
At holidays, he was usually the person helping me carry dishes into the kitchen while everyone else argued over football.
I won’t lie — it hurt a little that he hadn’t invited me.
But after Adrian’s death, I’d barely spoken to his family.
Maybe they thought a wedding would be too painful for me.
Maybe Julian had decided that seeing him stand at an altar would remind me too much of everything I’d lost.
I
