His voice was thick with concern, but it only deepened the hollow echo in my chest. Had he truly forgotten what happened at the banquet? Or was he pretending?
I didn’t answer.
Hours earlier, I’d spoken to my brother. His voice had carried a mixture of hope and unease—probably sensing something I wouldn’t admit outright.
“Wendy Dale… has someone hurt you?”
There’d been a pause, heavy on his end of the line. I smiled then, light and practiced, despite the bitterness rising in my throat.
“No. I’m fine,” I lied. “I’ve just decided that since I’m going to marry anyway… does it really matter who the groom is?”
He didn’t buy it. “You didn’t sound too thrilled about marriage last time we talked. Why the sudden change?”
Because I had wanted to marry Isaac. Because I thought I mattered to him. Because I was wrong.
I shook my head at the memory and gave a laugh that sounded far too hollow. “I’ve come to terms with things. Besides, I’m not getting any younger. Might as well get it over with before I’m completely undesirable.”