Two days later, dressed in his sage-and-black tuxedo, Darius knocked on the door to the dressing room in the back of the church, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Liz? You in there?”

      In the distance he could hear a piano solo of Jeffrey Osborne’s “On the Wings of Love” coming from the sanctuary. One of Liz’s friends, a bridesmaid, Kelly, hurried toward him down the hall, her sage-green gown lifted to her knees revealing white stockings with a severe tear down the left leg.

      As she reached him, Darius asked, “Have you seen Liz this morning?”

      She seemed distressed as she bobbed her head, the flowers threaded through her blond tresses weaving precariously. “Yes, about an hour ago.” She gestured to the closed door. “She should still be in there. I was just coming to see if she had any extra stockings.” She extended her leg. “Mine are ruined.”

      He knocked on the door again. “Liz?” He cracked the door a bit and the first thing he saw was Marian Donovan reflected in the full-length standing mirror on the other side of the room. She was reading something.

      “Mrs. Donovan? Is Liz here?”

      Marian Donovan swung around with a terrified expression on her face. “What? Oh, no, no—she’s not.” She rushed across the room to them. “Kelly, would you be a dear and go find my husband?”

      Kelly’s wide blue eyes looked nervously between Darius and Marian, and then she hurried away to find Will Donovan.

      With a loud swallow, Marian finally looked directly at Darius. “Darius, come in here. We…we need to talk.”

      Darius started into the room on shaky legs. He knew. With absolute certainty he knew what he was about to be told.

      Marian closed the door and handed him the note. “I found this a few minutes ago.”

      With clumsy fingers he unfolded the note and quickly scanned the scrawled writing.

      Darius,

      As much as it pains me to tell you in this manner, I cannot in good conscience go through with our wedding. I’m in love with someone else. I’m so sorry to hurt you this way, but to marry you would mean being untrue to my own heart…

      He heard the door behind him burst open and Will Donovan’s blustery voice in some kind of deep discussion or argument with his wife, Darius couldn’t focus his mind enough to tell. Nor, did he care. He felt like he was in a fog, an agonizing, torturous fog.

      He could hear others pouring into the room, his own parents’ voices were mingled with the rest. But he was trying to see through the newly formed tears in his eyes to read the rest of the letter.

      I hope you believe me when I tell you that I wish you only the best life has to offer and I hope, I truly hope that one day you can forgive us. I do love you, Darius, in my own way. But I have discovered too late that the love I feel for you is more that of a brother for a sister and not the deep emotional attachment I feel now.

      Someone was sobbing, no…a couple of someones. And he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

      Please don’t look for me, go on with your life and find the happiness you deserve. And tell my parents I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt them, either. Liz

      Darius slowly folded the note closed exactly as he’d received it and turned to face the family and friends crowded into the small room.

      His mother pushed her way forward and took his face between her hands. “Darius? Are you okay, baby?”

      He nodded and closed his eyes tightly to hold back the tears. Not here. Not now.

      Carol North hugged her eldest son to her, and then said, “I’ll get your brother to drive you home.” She looked around, but it was impossible to see anything in the mass of chattering people. “Darren! Darren where are you?”

      No answer came for several seconds, so she turned to her husband, Jimmy, who’d worked his way to his son’s side. “You know where Darren is?”

      He shook his head. “Has anyone seen Darren?” He called over the crowd, but the incessant chatter continued and no one offered an answer.

      Feeling his chest heave, Darius unfolded the note and reread ten words that were now taking on a new meaning. “I truly hope that one day you can forgive us.”

      Us.

      Us?

      Darius reached behind himself, and amazingly he found a chair to sit in before his legs finally gave way.

      Carol worked her way over to the back of the chair and gently put her hands on his shoulders, as if by touch alone she could remove his pain. He could feel her turning her body in each direction still searching for her other son, the one she expected to help his brother now.

      Darius could’ve told her Darren wasn’t there. Us. By now, both his brother and his fiancée were long gone. On the way to their new life…together.

      Two months later…

       Las Vegas, Nevada

      Elizabeth Donovan sat on the window seat of the small hotel room watching the bright-red neon sign of the strip club across the street flash its invitation of topless women. She pulled her knees to her chest, folded her arms across them and finally surrendered to the tears she’d fought for too long. What a complete mess she’d made of her life.

      Her comfortable world filled with the safe haven of family and friends seemed to have disappeared before her very eyes. Some mornings she woke believing the past two months had been nothing more than a nightmare. Then she would sit up in the bed, look around the shabby little hotel room and remember. It was real. All of it. Every horrific detail. And she had no one to blame but herself.

      How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? It seemed like years since she’d stood before the full-length mirror being fitted for her wedding gown, when in fact it had only been a few months. She’d been so sure of everything then, including what to expect of her future. Now, she wasn’t sure of anything, not even her own mind.

      Almost from the time they were children playing together, Liz had known and accepted that Darius North would always be a part of her life. Although he was five years older than she, her family had had no objections when they’d started dating four years ago. Even then Darius had a reputation as being an upstanding, dependable young man.

      Over the years he’d proven to be everything it was assumed he would be. Respectful, generous-hearted, reliable. And the more he lived up to his stellar reputation, the more Liz accepted a secret truth in her heart that she would never admit aloud. For all his wonderful virtues, Darius nearly bored her to tears.

      With Darius nothing was ever a surprise. Not even a surprise was a surprise. Every year on their anniversary when he handed her a gift-wrapped box Liz could guess what it was before opening it. Darius followed the traditional anniversary-gift guidelines as if it were gospel.

      First year paper, second year cotton and so forth. In fact, Darius always followed the set guidelines. He never broke the rules, and she knew he never would.

      At twenty-one, Liz already knew what her life would hold. She would marry Darius, the staid deli owner from Ohio, and they would probably have two, three children at the most. They would buy a small brick home in a Cincinnati suburb and continue to belong to their Methodist Church, Blessed Mary, where Darius would eventually become a deacon. Liz knew this because Darius had laid it all out to her some time ago. And Darius always did what he said he would. Always.

      Using the back of her hand she carelessly wiped at her tear-filled eyes. What she wouldn’t give to have that predictable