The wedding was held in a small garden behind an old brick inn.
White chairs lined the grass and string lights hung from the trees.
Caleb wore a navy suit and looked happier than I had ever seen him.
Julian wore gray. He kept touching the inside pocket of his jacket as if checking for something.
“Vows?” I asked him when Caleb stepped away to greet friends.
He startled.
“What?”
“You keep touching your pocket. I figured vows.”
“Oh.” He smiled quickly. “Yes. Vows.”
But his smile did not reach his eyes.
A few minutes before the ceremony, I saw him near the hallway that led to the restrooms, speaking quietly into his phone.
His back was to me, and his voice was low.
I heard only one word.
“Aaron.”
I stopped walking.
My ex-husband’s name was not rare, but hearing it on my son’s wedding day felt like ice slipping down my spine.
At first, I told myself it had to be a coincidence.
Then Julian glanced over his shoulder, saw me nearby, and ended the call too quickly.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He slid the phone into his pocket.
