His mother knew.And they had both let me mourn him.
I turned and ran.
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I barely made it to the restroom before the tears came.
I locked myself inside and cried until I could barely breathe.
My phone started ringing. It was my assistant.
“Meredith? The coordinator’s looking for you. They’re about to start.”
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My eyes were swollen.
My mascara was ruined.
“Meredith? Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to take over?”
I thought about Adrian.
Alive. Smiling.
Getting ready for a wedding while I’d spent three months grieving him.
“No.”
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“Are you sure?”
I wiped my face and picked up my florist badge.
And suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to do next — and how I was going to make Adrian regret what he’d done to me.
I stood in front of the mirror for another few seconds.
My hands were still shaking.
Part of me wanted to leave.
Another part wanted to find Adrian and demand an explanation.
But somehow, neither option felt remotely possible anymore.
He had watched me bury him.
