top of it, instead of a bride and groom, there was a tiny house.
I leaned closer to my laptop screen.
Gray shingles. A wraparound porch with white railings. An old live oak beside it, made of green and brown icing. A little path of crushed shells leading up to the steps.
And the front door, painted a bright, clear blue.
Del’s eyes.
My house was on their wedding cake.
Under the photo, Laurelai had written: The happy couple’s new home at the beach! Dreams do come true!
I sat
