Moments later, the bride discovered her fiancé speaking privately with a sobbing woman—and the explanation he gave was exactly what Grandma Rose had warned her about.
Just ten minutes separated me from becoming Ethan’s wife.
My wedding dress was already on, my hair had been carefully pinned into place, and my mother had cried twice before anyone had even started the ceremony.
Someone had just handed me my bouquet when Ethan’s grandmother appeared in the small bridal room behind the chapel.
Grandma Rose was eighty-three, tiny, observant, and normally one of the calmest people in Ethan’s family.
But that afternoon, she looked genuinely frightened.
“Claire.”
I smiled when I saw her.
