I had publicly canceled a proposal before she had even been given the dignity of a private conversation.

We had been together for eighteen months, and although neither of us had used the word love convincingly, that did not make her embarrassment less real.

Her photograph had been on the invitations.

Her friends had traveled to Connecticut expecting a celebration.

When I called from the restaurant, she had stood in a room full of people who knew more about the arrangements than about what she actually wanted.

I asked to meet her at a quiet café, away from either family’s properties.