“The food is getting cold.”

That was Rose.

She had just watched a wedding unravel in front of one hundred and fifty people, and her first concern was that the caterers had worked hard, too.

I was still beside the cake cart, feeling the shape of the spoon handle against my palm even though Brandon had taken it away.

Until that afternoon, I had thought of myself as a sensible person.

I paid bills on time, changed my car oil when the dashboard reminded me, and always checked that Grandma had someone to drive her to the pharmacy.