(Copyright: Sandra Crook)
The gardens at La Maison were in full bloom the day I arrived with the sod. It was my job to turn the courtyard into a grassy green for the wedding of the marquis’ daughter.
My brother and I laid the rolls as the florist added pots of white roses. An arbor was erected overlooking the river where the vows would be said. The courtyard became a bride’s fairyland.
As we drove off, I saw Nicole. She was standing under the arbor, watching me. Tears covered her cheeks and we both knew we had lost. Our time together was finally over.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. February 28, 2014.)