Gemotions

The string quartet’s rendition of “Canon in D” filled the church, but Amelia barely heard it. Her gaze kept drifting to the back of the room, to the far doorway, as if expecting someone. The ivory lace of her dress felt suddenly heavy, constricting. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a mesmerizing distraction from the knot forming in her stomach. It had been nearly two years. Two years since their last, strained phone call.

A plate of miniature quiches sat untouched on the cocktail table. She’d made it a point to mingle, to look busy, to laugh at the best man’s predictable jokes, but her smile felt pasted on. A warmth bloomed in her chest, followed by a chill. She caught her breath, and the floral fragrance of the church momentarily became the scent of his old leather jacket.

She saw him then, a flash of familiar dark hair in the throng. Her hand flew to her throat, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. He was talking animatedly with Ben, their old college roommate, and he looked…good. Damn good.