Cora says, “Feel better, Marnie. That’s an order.”

“Yes, um, feel better,” Wes says, following her lead, his beard tickling my cheek.

Ashe goes for my lips, soft and sweet—the kiss that should’ve come at the altar. I linger there, holding him with my hand on his cheek.

“I’ll be back,” he promises softly. “Love you.”

“Love you,” I breathe out weakly.

The room empties, leaving me with Detective Watson. He sets a paper bag on the table. “The gentlemen at the scene took the liberty of salvaging items from your vehicle.”

“How thoughtful.” I smile softly. “Is Grady Tripp still here?”

“Um, I don’t know. He probably left.”

Of course, he left—why would he stay? “Oh, I wanted to thank him.”

“Thank him?”

“He saved my life.” My light shrug hurts; everything hurts.

“He also says he caused the accident. Do you remember what happened?”

My eyes pinch. “Um, Ashe forgot the cake knife for the wedding and asked if I could run by their house. Cora wanted her mother’s pearl brooch, too. They were already at the venue—the Lakeview Club. I’m the go-to girl, you see. I couldn’t find the dang pin, but she texted that she had it after all.”

I stop for a breath. “Anyway, I was in a hurry by that time, worried I’d be late for my own wedding. I wasn’t speeding, though. Promise. It’s a curvy road; the knife kept shifting in the passenger seat, so I grabbed it. Held it here,” I explain, gesturing to my lap. “The next thing I remember is him. Grady. And the sky—it was the perfect shade of blue today.”

“Um, yes. It was.”

“It was an accident, Detective Watson.” I chuckle weakly. “You have the perfect name for a detective.”

“Well, Holmes would’ve been better,” he says.

“True. Watson should’ve gotten more credit. The accident was an accident, though. I don’t want to press charges.”

“The investigation will determine charges. At least he’ll be cited for traffic violations; this protects you and the insurance process.”

“Um, okay. How is he? Is he okay?”

“He didn’t sustain any injuries in the accident,” he reports.

“No, I know. I mean… is he okay?” I say the question slowly, hoping he understands me.

For the first time, Detective Watson shows concern. “He’s upset. Like I’ve never seen him.”

I nod, understanding, though my heart breaks a little for this grouchy stranger. I remember how distraught he was over me, his sad eyes, and unsaid thoughts—he shouldn’t suffer lasting effects over this, even if I will. Can’t think about that now. “He has to know it was an accident.”

“He’ll see that,” he says. “Eventually. He’s my nephew, you know.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t put that together.”

“I married his Aunt Elena.”

“Right, of course… chocolate chip cake on her birthday.”