He let go of my arm, and his hand moved to gently touch my cheek. What used to make my heart flutter now left me numb. “Please, Debbie. Trust me. I’d never hurt you. Stop filling your head with doubts about me and Carla.”
I bit the inside of my mouth to hold back a bitter laugh. Trust him? Not hurt me? Those were exactly the things he’d failed at again and again. If those poisonous berries had claimed my life yesterday, I doubted he would’ve even mourned me.
Once I entered the packroom, the children ran up to greet me, their laughter echoing with joy. For a moment, their beaming faces dulled the constant ache in my chest. I used to picture raising pups of my own—Darrell had even whispered dreams of our future together. But like the promises he made, those dreams had turned to ash.
Leaving them would hurt more than I was ready for.
Later that evening, I glanced at my phone and saw yet another message from my parents. They were excited about the wedding preparations—asking what kind of flowers I wanted, what dress style I liked, whether I preferred a crown of blossoms or a flowing veil.