Once, a friend mentioned offhand, "I heard Yvie's planning her wedding, but apparently she's doing everything herself. Caleb isn't helping with any of it."Yale had been taking a drink of water. His glass stopped halfway to his mouth."What wedding?""Her wedding to Caleb. You didn't know? I think it's next month."Yale set the glass down and didn't ask anything else.That night, he went home and opened the drawer where he kept the black gel pens.There were dozens of them now, enough to fill the entire drawer. Each one marked another moment when he'd thought of her and said nothing.He took one out and wrote a name on a sheet of paper.Yvie Lane.He stared at it, then suddenly laughed.By the time the laughter faded, his eyes were red.She was about to get married. What was he still waiting for?He didn't know.He only knew he couldn't storm into her wedding, confess his feelings, or disrupt the stable life she'd finally built for herself. That wasn't who he was.All he could do was w
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