“Well,” she said, her voice bright and cheery. “Good thing I had Lila send me printed copies before that unfortunate accident.”
“What do you mean, Beverly?”
“Oh, I pulled Lila aside at the wedding and told her to send me a full album as soon as possible. I like to preserve family history. Why don’t you come over on Sunday? We’ll have a little viewing with the family.”It was Beverly.
I was a fool. I actually thought, for a fleeting second, that this was her way of making things right. I thought she’d saved the day.
When we arrived at her house on Sunday, the living room was packed. Family and close friends were all squeezed onto the sofas.
The album sat on the coffee table.
Beverly stood beside it, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
I was a fool.
“I just think it’s important to celebrate family,” she declared as she opened the album with a dramatic flourish.
The air left my lungs.
There was a photo of Brandon and me standing at the altar, saying our vows while Beverly hovered nearby, and below it, one of Brandon and me exiting the church.
There was just one thing missing — me!
Beverly had cut me out of every photo.
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