Page 89 of Only Be Mine

I knocked, the sound hollow against the glass. “Mr. Woo?”

Nothing.

On impulse, I tried the handle.

The door opened easily, the bell jangling sharply overhead. I flinched, glancing back at Amy before stepping inside.

The shop was dim, quiet except for the rustle of plastic somewhere in the back. Light spilled from beneath the office door.

“Mr. Woo?” I called again.

The back door swung open, and he appeared holding a garment bag high over his shoulder, scowl firmly in place.

“You late, Miss Larkin,” he scolded.

I startled upright, heat rushing to my face. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He stepped forward and pressed the bag into my hands. “Go. I lock up now.”

“But…”

“You no be late rehearsal,” he added, steering me gently but firmly toward the door. “You go.”

I smiled despite myself.

He always pretended to be gruff, like kindness embarrassed him. But he’d stayed. He hadn’t left when he could have.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He waved me off, already turning away.

Outside, the bell chimed again as the door shut behind me. I stood there for a moment, the garment bag heavy in my arms, before carrying it back to the car.

On the drive to the church, the phone rang.

Then again.

Florist. Caterer. Someone from the church.

I let them all go to voicemail.

Amy glanced at me but didn’t say anything. She’d learned, over the years, which silences were off-limits.

When we pulled into the church parking lot, the sun was already dipping low, staining the sky the color of old bruises. I searched the lot without meaning to.

Amy touched my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She pulled my makeup bag from her purse. “Close your eyes.”

As she worked, I stared at the church doors in front of us, tall, heavy, and unyielding.

Once, a long time ago, I’d stood in front of doors like these and believed love was enough to keep someone from disappearing.

I knew better now.

When Amy finished, she leaned back and smiled. “There.”