The medical machines beside Ben hummed their quiet, steady rhythm.
I stood at the foot of his bed, holding a cheap veil.
I was finally going to marry the boy I’d loved for twenty years.
But it was far from being a dream wedding.
Ben grinned at me from the hospital bed, pale but stubbornly cheerful.
“You look beautiful.”
It was far from being a dream wedding.
“I’m wearing jeans, Ben.”
“Best-looking bride in this whole hospital.”
I laughed, because if I didn’t laugh I was going to fall apart.
