One day, she’d been part of a stable, wonderful relationship. Cherished. Confident that her wedding to Chase would happen soon and that she’d spend the rest of her life married to him. He was the only man she’d love, the only man she’d sleep with, and that’s how it was going to be. The next day, he’d died.

Bridget pushed the mug of tea she’d made for Finley closer.

Finley tasted it, registering the tang of ginger. “Chase’s death was incredibly hard to accept. It took me ages to get used to the idea that he was gone. That I wouldn’t become his wife. That my future wouldn’t look anything like I’d envisioned.”

He’d died just three months before their wedding date. By that point, most of the plans for their big day had already been in place. Her wedding dress still hung in the back of her closet, where she’d placed it after a successful day of shopping at bridal boutiques in Atlanta.

Meadow and Bridget had been with her that day, as had Aunt June, her cousin Leslie, and Leslie’s daughter. They’d burst into applause when they’d seen her in the gown she’d eventually selected.

In fact, choosing that dress was just one in a long line of perfect moments that defined her love story with Chase. They’d met when she’d entered the animal shelter where she’d volunteered during her college years and seen him feeding a kitten milk through an eyedropper.

He’d told her he loved her for the first time after a day at the beach. They’d been sandy and happy and lying on a blanket under an umbrella, Atlantic Ocean waves crashing in the distance. “I love you, Finley,” he’d said, looking deeply into her eyes. And her heart had soared. Unreservedly she’d said, “I love you, too.”

He’d proposed by bringing her to a rooftop at night. They’d stepped inside a line of flowers and flickering votives he’d placed on the floor in the shape of a heart. He’d played a song for her, then explained how much he loved her and why. Then he’d asked if she’d marry him. She’d cried with joy.

The ring had been perfect. The prayer they’d prayed together afterward had been perfect.

Every aspect of their relationship had felt destined and star-crossed until the story’s end, when he’d lost control of his Jeep and shattered his body.

In the days following Chase’s funeral, Meadow and Bridget had swooped in and canceled Finley’s wedding venue, caterer, florist, photographer, and the rest.

“The path you walked changed you,” Bridget said soothingly.

“It toughened you,” Meadow said.

“Yes and yes.” It had matured her. “It took a long time to envision my future a different way.”