wedding that I was too sick to come. Didn’t he?”
Every head on that lawn turned to look at my son.
Tiffany Rourke, in a wide straw hat in the second row, put her hand over her mouth.
“You told them I was sick,” I said to Cullen. “So nobody would ask why your mother wasn’t there.”
He didn’t answer.
He couldn’t even look at me.
“Is that true?” Blythe said.
Everyone turned to her. She was standing behind Cullen, her orchid lei crooked, her face pale under her tan.
