“My God, the morning is beautiful.” Addy smiled at the thought. Sunlight poured through the windows as she stood before her mirror, applying moisturizer. Moisturizer. Nothing else. No foundation. No dark lipstick. No false lashes. No contouring designed to reshape a face Emmet had already considered beautiful before deciding beauty was something that required constant correction. Addy looked at herself. There were faint lines around her eyes now. She left them alone. She had

Addy and Frances did not speak for months after their fight. This suited them both. It did nothing, however, to discourage Emmet's strange devotion to Frances's future. He applied the full weight of his money, reputation, and professional connections to securing her the sort of life Addy might once have killed for. By the end of it, Frances had a prestigious position waiting for her in beautiful Brazil. Had circumstances permitted it, the sisters might have spent the remainde

Spring arrived before Addy had another visitor. By then, Emmet called less frequently. They were both happier for it. Sometimes several days passed without either bothering to contact the other. Their marriage had settled into a strange arrangement in which distance accomplished what affection never had: peace. Addy read. She painted. She took long hikes through the property as the snow retreated into the shadows beneath the trees. She had become, by any reasonable definition

Emmet was at work when Addy packed for Canada. She laid the sweaters he preferred across the top of her suitcase where they would be plainly visible if he happened to inspect it. They were tight, expensive things that clung to her body in all the places Emmet considered important. Beneath them, hidden inside a zippered compartment, she packed her real clothes. Loose sweaters. Soft pajamas. Comfortable pants. Things she had secretly purchased for the hours when Emmet was away.

Ease never came to Addy’s marriage. She had expected it to arrive eventually. Perhaps after the honeymoon. Perhaps after the first year. Surely there would come some morning when she and Emmet would cease behaving like two strangers contractually obligated to occupy the same photograph. It never happened. For the first few years, Emmet kept her largely indoors, alone and dressed like a sex doll. Addy hated the clothes. She was embarrassed to be seen in them, yet whenever she

Addy finds there's much more to the story about her family and her wedding during her visit.

Addy and her best friend have a huge falling out over Emmet on the big day.

“Mrs. Adeline Taylor. I love how that sounds!” Mrs. Madison nearly squealed the words as she gestured for Frances to serve the champagne. Frances obeyed. She usually did. She crossed the sitting room with the silver tray balanced carefully between her hands and offered a flute to Addy, who accepted it with a distracted nod of gratitude. “Thank you, Frances.” “Frances, go busy yourself elsewhere,” Mrs. Madison said. “I have things to discuss with your sister.” Frances lowered