The reception was exactly what we wanted. Casual. Warm. Real. My daughter gave a toast that had everyone laughing and crying. Dan’s daughter, now 13, stood up and said, “I’m really glad my dad found someone who makes him smile again.” I almost lost it completely.
As the last guests left and we drove to Dan’s house (our house now), I felt lighter than I had in years. Maybe I really could do this. Maybe I really could be happy again.
I slipped off my heels and went to the bathroom to wash my face, my mind still replaying the smiles and the warmth of all those embraces. When I returned to the bedroom, I expected to find Dan unwinding, maybe already out of his suit.
Instead, he was standing in front of the safe in the closet. His posture was stiff, and his hands were trembling.
“Dan?” I laughed a little, trying to ease whatever tension had crept into the room. “What’s wrong? Are you nervous?”
He didn’t turn around. Didn’t answer. Just stood there like he was frozen.
“Dan, seriously. You’re scaring me.”
When he finally turned around, the look on his face stopped my breath. It was guilt. Raw, crushing guilt. And something else… fear.