დ Elara დ
It started with whispers in the bottling shed. By the time I walked through the courtyard, the words hung on every tongue like dew.
“Aidan Rourke’s wedding is coming up,”
“It’s official. I heard all the invitations went out,”
“It’s going to be a big city thing!”
“Celeste Vance is beautiful. I saw her on TV,”
“She is too perfect,”
“Rich people know how to throw a party,”
“I heard they hired that caterer from Thornebay. The one who did the governor’s fundraiser,”
I heard the whispers. The gossip as I carried a crate of glasses through it all. My arms ached, and my ears felt like they were burning. Every mention of his name made something inside me splinter further. I told myself I was over it. Over him. Over the idea that what we had here had meant more than a passing drea
