“I don’t think so.”

She looked down.

“I thought the picture was taking a long time.”

He stayed beside her while she absorbed that.

The wedding was becoming less urgent to him with every conversation.

For Poppy, it was still a basket she thought someone was making.

Cassian met Viola at a quiet office several days later.

He brought the wedding messages.

He did not need them to believe Poppy.

He needed to stop allowing vague explanations to take the place of specific answers.

Viola read the first page.

“The planner shouldn’t have sent you private correspondence.”

“It concerns my daughter.”

“It concerns our wedding.”

“Yes.”

She pushed the pages away.

“I was going to discuss it.”

“When?”

“When things were calmer.”

“Before or after you told Poppy I wanted a day without worrying about her?”

Viola looked at him.

“She’s turning every conversation into an accusation.”

“She’s repeating what she was told.”

“You don’t know how she behaves when you’re away.”

“Then tell me.”

“She asks when you’re coming home. She asks whether you’ll call. She asks whether I told you things.”

Cassian waited.

Viola spread her hands.

“It never stops.”

“Did you ever answer honestly?”

“That’s unfair.”

“Did you tell her the phone was at home?”

She looked away.

“No.”

“Did you tell her I wasn’t beside you?”

“No.”

“Did you explain that you couldn’t know whether I wanted to speak?”

Viola pressed her lips together.

“I knew you needed peace.”

He looked at her for a long time.

Then he said, “You decided the only way to have me was to make her believe she didn’t.”

Tears came into her eyes.

“That isn’t all of who I am.”

“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

For a moment, she seemed relieved.

He continued.

“But it is something you chose to do. More than once.”

He ended the engagement.

Not because the wedding planner sent an email.