Unstitched by the Fates

Molly Shelton's fiancé seemed to recognize me. He suddenly put out a hand to stop me. "Aren't you that famous photographer? We're having our wedding rehearsal tomorrow. Could you take some pictures for us?"

My heart lurched, and I instinctively glanced at the woman standing beside him.

She was looking at me too, her expression impossible to read.

It was a while before she spoke. "He really loves your work. Come on."

Even as she said it, she turned toward her fiancé, the corners of her lips curling with a sweetness she couldn't hold back.

A sour ache rose in my chest. I pressed my lips together and forced a smile. After a long moment of hesitation, I agreed.

My gaze drifted, almost against my will, to what they were wearing.

Matching beige slim-fit outfits set off his height and her petite frame perfectly. Even their shoes and watches were coordinated couple's styles, and the pendants around their necks were a matching pair: a key on his, a lock on hers.

It was as if that lock had sealed away the rest of her life.

So this was what it looked like when Molly truly loved someone.

I kept nodding, trying to push down the flood of thoughts, but my voice still shook when I spoke. "You two make a great couple..."

That clearly pleased her fiancé. He quickly pulled out his phone, opened a photo, and held it out to me like he was showing off a treasure.

One look, and I froze where I stood.

It was a tattoo inked across a collarbone, the words "I love you" written clearly.

My head roared. I stared at the photo, dazed. "You have one too?"

He laughed softly, a little shy and a little smug. "Of course. But how did you know?"

Of course I knew.

The day before we were supposed to get our marriage certificate, I'd held her hand and shamelessly begged her for a couple's tattoo. She'd said no.

Now, for another man, she'd said yes.

"She gave me this for Valentine's Day this year. I always thought people who do research were boring old stick-in-the-muds, but she turned out to be even more romantic than me..."

Tyler Rigby's words were so full of sweetness they were practically spilling over.

"You got it on February 14?" I asked, my throat tight.

He nodded with a grin.

It felt like someone had punched a hole straight through my chest. The familiar smell of blood rose in my nose again.

My hand pulled out a tissue on its own, and I dabbed at my nose compulsively.

What he didn't know was that February 14 was the day Molly and I had gotten together. Five years ago, she'd stood under a cherry tree in thick black-framed glasses for her severe nearsightedness, holding red roses as she confessed her feelings to me.

The light was dim that night, yet somehow I'd still noticed the tips of her ears flushing pink.

We loved each other for five years, and on the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, it all came to an abrupt end.

I clenched my fingers. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't.

All I managed was a faint curve of my lips, my voice barely more than a mumble. "She must really love you..."

He smiled and was about to answer when someone called "Tyler!" from nearby and pulled him away.

That left just Molly and me in that small space.

It took me a long time to work up the nerve to ask. "That Valentine's Day, when you stood me up at the county clerk's office... was it because of him?"

I already knew the answer in my heart, but I still couldn't stop myself from asking.