I had to put a hand on the wall.
After the crash, this man stood next to me at her funeral. He held my hand while I cried over a sister he’d been arguing with hours earlier about whether I deserved the truth.
And he said nothing.
For a year.
“Yes. She planned to tell you everything that night.”
“Her death changed everything,” he said. “Bruce had lost his mother. You were wrecked. I thought telling you then would be cruel.”
“And six months later? When you proposed?”
He looked away.
“By then I loved you both. Sometimes I’d look at Bruce and wonder. I was afraid saying it out loud would cost me both of you.”
“Her death changed everything,”
For a year I’d believed Douglas had simply chosen us.
Now I couldn’t separate that love from the secret he’d been carrying.
“Bruce still has a right to know,” I said.
