“The service is going to start in two minutes,” she said in a low, commanding voice. “Sit down, and we will handle this mess properly once we are through.”
“There is no seat for me,” I said, my brain fixating on that one minor detail because the larger picture was too much to handle. “My seat is right there, where she is sitting.”
Bridget looked at Miles and then at Audrey, her expression turning as cold as the marble beneath our feet. “Then they can both go find a seat in the basement,” she whispered fiercely.
She guided me into the row directly behind them because the Bishop was stepping toward the altar and three hundred guests were turning their heads. My knees felt like they were made of water, so I sank into the wooden pew and stared at the back of my husband’s head.
I could see the familiar shimmer of my own dress against the spine of the woman he had chosen to replace me with. The service began, and Bishop Montgomery spoke about my father’s incredible heart and the legacy of truth he had left behind.