She shook her head.
“But I’m not the broken one in this room. I can’t walk. But I would never, ever do what you just did. Not to anybody. And that means my heart works just fine.”
She held the bouquet-shaped emptiness in her lap, but her hands were open, palms up, like she was holding something anyway.
“So you can keep the flowers,” she said. “I don’t need them. I already know I’m going to be loved. My mom loves me. Claire loves me. Everybody in this room just saw who I am and who you are. And someday, some man is going to think I’m the kindest, funniest, smartest person he ever met, and he is going to be so happy to marry me, wheelchair and all. And I hope, I really hope, that someday somebody sees something good in you too, Aunt Donna. But you’re going to have to grow it first. Because right now, there’s nothing there to catch.”
