I had receipts.
I had years of them.
But holding receipts at the altar felt like bringing stones to a garden.
So I said, “I needed things too.”
Paige blinked.
“I just stopped asking.”
Her face changed.
That landed.
Maybe because it was the first thing I had said that did not accuse her.
Maybe because it was true enough to make both of us ashamed.
Ethan came down from the altar then, but he did not interrupt. He stood a few feet behind me, close enough to support me, far enough to let the moment belong to us.
That was Ethan.
He never rushed healing to make himself comfortable.
Paige looked at him, then at the room, then back at me.
“I ruined your wedding,” she whispered.
“No,” I said.
She looked confused.
I glanced at the white dress. “You walked in wearing the wound. That’s different.”
Her mouth trembled again.
