The screen only showed a preview, but a preview was enough. A message from Rosalind sat at the top, three lines glowing in the dark bedroom. “Has she signed yet? Foster will not come back a second time, and the lender needs an answer by Friday. If the Sanibel deed is not in the trust by then, they take the Delmar house instead.” I stood very still while the water ran behind the bathroom door.

Another message arrived as I read. “Tell Vivian it is romantic. Tell her it is what married couples do. Just get her signature.” My own name, passed between them like the combination to a safe. I understood then that our wedding had never begun anything. It had been a deadline. The shower shut off. Footsteps crossed the tile, and I was still holding my breath at the screen that had told me everything.