Chapter 2

Caleb Bennett had offered to marry me two weeks earlier.

At the time, I'd thought he was joking.

His sister Mia was my best friend. I'd known who he was since high school, but we'd only had one real conversation as adults. He'd been away for college and work, then come home to a family determined to introduce him to every available woman in Colorado.

At Mia's birthday dinner, he'd listened while she complained about Mark canceling another appointment.

“I need an end to the introductions,” he'd said. “You need somebody who'll actually show up. We could solve two problems.”

I'd looked at him.

“That sounds like the start of a terrible movie.”

“Most of the good ones start badly.”

He'd smiled, and I'd put it away as one more ridiculous thing people said when they didn't know how to help.

Now I sat under a county office poster and remembered that he'd given me his number before leaving.

I wasn't calling because I suddenly knew him well enough to be in love. I was calling because I'd spent six months offering Mark chances to mean what he said, and I couldn't make myself offer an eighth.

Grandpa had been in and out of the hospital through most of those months. Lately, there had been more in than out.

Every visit, he asked how the plans were coming along. He wanted to see me in a wedding dress. He wanted to know somebody would be there when he couldn't be.

I had mistaken giving him that reassurance for a reason to keep waiting for the wrong man.

The first appointment fell apart because Lily's car wouldn't start. Mark said it was an emergency. I believed him.

The second time, a furniture delivery had arrived when she was alone and couldn't manage it. The third, she'd had a terrible day at work and needed somebody to sit with her.

Those first three cancellations had become apologies, dinners, promises. Each time, I'd thought the fact that he was sorry meant he understood.

The fourth time, she'd wanted soup from a place across town. Mark said she hadn't eaten all day and the line would be too long later.

I remembered standing beside his car while he explained why soup had to come before our marriage.

The fifth time, she'd locked herself out. He had her spare key.

The sixth, she had cramps. He went to make her tea and bring a heating pad.

I didn't think people should have to earn help by being in enough pain. What I couldn't understand was why I was always the person asked to wait for it.

The seventh time, she hurt her ankle.

He hadn't even stayed long enough to finish giving the clerk his information.

A few days earlier, Grandpa had taken my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

“If I don't get to see the dress, I don't get to see it,” he'd said. “You still have to live, Gracie. Even if you're on your own. Don't let anybody make you small.”

I'd promised I wouldn't.

I looked at Caleb's name on my phone.

Then I called him.

He answered on the second ring.

“Grace?”

“Did you mean what you said?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“About marrying you?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

I told him.

“Stay there,” he said. “I'm coming.”