He studied my face, perhaps searching for the girl who used to ask permission.
But she wasn’t there.
After a long silence, he nodded.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “No more.”
Brenda was waiting beneath the garden pergola, wrapped in a tan coat over the emerald bridesmaid dress she had worn at my wedding. Her curls were pinned messily at the back of her head. Without makeup, she looked younger and more exhausted than I had ever seen her.
Security stood discreetly near the hedges.
Rebecca remained at my side.
Brenda’s eyes flicked to her, then back to me.
“Thank you for coming out,” she said.
“I didn’t do it for you,” I replied.
She flinched, then nodded. “Fair.”
The garden smelled of wet roses and night air. Somewhere beyond the trees, the fountain murmured steadily.
For a few seconds, Brenda seemed unable to speak.
Then she said, “I am pregnant.”
