Cora asks again if I’m okay, but I ignore her. I’m walking—no, running—toward the glass doors, weaving between tables and chairs, bumping people on accident, not caring. My hand finds the door handle. Evening air rakes my bare arms. I shiver even though it’s plenty warm, but I keep going, heels sinking into the soft grass, moving toward the edge of the garden.
“You and me / Meant to be / Immutable / Impossible / It’s destiny”
— “Stand Inside Your Love” by The Smashing Pumpkins
Through the glass, the reception shines. Flowers everywhere. I suspect Jillian had a hand in that. I bet she chose bright, colorful arrangements and when the florist asked how many she wanted, she said, All of them.
But I see right through that. The flowers are a mask. Happy girls like flowers, and Jillian is pre
