over the years.
EMILY. RESERVED. MOM.
“Oh, Emily,” she said. “You made it.”
“That’s my seat, Vanessa.”
What happened next was somehow even worse than finding her there.
She tilted her head as if I had said something charming. “Honey, family sits up front. You understand.”
She said it loud enough for the row behind us to turn.
“Honey, family sits up front. You understand.”
I kept my voice low. “Ethan reserved this for me. His handwriting is right there.”
I pointed at the card.
Vanessa did not look at it. Instead, she smiled at me like I was a tantrumming child.
I felt the heat climbing up my neck.
The bouquet trembled, and I clutched it tighter to make it stop.
That was when Mark walked up, holding two coffees.
