I sit inside my parents’ house, waiting for them to come home from their usual postchurch date, unmoving except for my hand, which strokes Oscar, who purrs on my lap. The front door doesn’t open until almost one o’clock.

Mom laughs as she steps inside, and I wonder if they are in a dream of their own, if she is in denial and if Dad is letting her live there. But then I remember our carriage ride and our time in front of the fire and I think no. There is a big difference between avoiding reality by pretending and enjoying reality for as long as it’s possible.

Mom hangs her purse on the hook by the door—the one Dad installed just for her since she has a habit of misplacing it around the house—and stops when she turns and sees me on their sofa. “Emma, what are you doing here in the dark?”

Oscar jumps off my lap, away from his free massage, and lies down in his favorite spot—where the sunlight usually shines in from the large picture window and warms a patch of carpet. But clouds have rolled in and the sun is nowhere to be seen.

“We never saw you at church,” she adds. “We didn’t see Jake either.”

I try to answer, but I can’t seem to find my voice.

Dad slips off his shoes, a bag of goodies from Eloise’s bakery in hand. He and Mom exchange a concerned look.

“Emma?”

My voice refuses to cooperate. It’s like my body has decided that stillness is good, stillness is tolerable, so it will never move again.

Mom takes the bag from Dad, then comes over to me and pulls me off the couch. “Come on. Whatever is bothering you can’t be so bad that we can’t discuss it over cookies. We got a few extra, in case you and Jake stopped by.”

I ignore Dad’s inquiring eyes and follow Mom into the kitchen, where she removes three plates and three glasses from a cupboard. Dad walks in behind us and opens the cupboard over the stove, where we’ve always kept our medicine. He uncaps a pill bottle and shakes a large white capsule into his palm. Mom fills one of the glasses with milk, hands it over, and Dad swallows the pill. His face has a pallor to it that wasn’t there yesterday. Or maybe it was and I just wasn’t willing to see it. Either way, it’s a subtle reminder that I can’t go back to dreamworld, even if I wanted to.

“I have to tell you guys something.”

Dad looks at me, and Mom waits to respond while she fills the other two glasses with milk and puts the gallon container back in the refrigerator. “We know it’s not true, Emma.”

The words pull my chin back. “You know?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Then why did you . . . ?” I’m so confused. Why did they let me go on then, if they knew Jake and I weren’t really engaged? That isn’t like them at all.

“We heard the rumor last night and didn’t believe it for one second.”

I look from Mom to Dad, trying to make sense of her words.

“You and Jake would have told us if you were pregnant. Your father and I know that. This is a small town, and one of the drawbacks of a small town is that rumors fly. Let people think what they will think. They will figure out the truth soon enough.”

“We’re not getting married,” I blurt.

Mom and Dad stare at me, blinking but silent. I wait for my words to sink in. I wait for them to register.

Instead, Mom rattles her head, as if shaking her thoughts into place. “I don’t understand. You and Jake aren’t getting married at all because of a rumor?”

“No, it’s not because of a rumor.” I look down at my shoes, unable to face their disappointment. “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry for getting your hopes up. But most of all, Dad, I’m sorry that I can’t give you that last item on your bucket list.”

“My bucket list?”

“I saw it. When you were in Door County. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t snooping. I was putting mail on your desk and your journal fell and your bucket list fell with it . . .” I fidget with the zipper of my jacket. “I wish you could walk me down the aisle. More than anything. But I can’t keep pretending.”

Mom sinks into the closest chair, as if my confession has buckled her knees. “You mean you and Jake were never really engaged?”

Shame sets my cheeks on fire. Now that my feet are firmly planted in reality, it all seems so foolish. What were Jake and I going to do—wait it out until my dad was gone and then come out with the truth? “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was the only thing you couldn’t cross off your list. So I went home and Jake was there, like Jake always is and . . . I don’t know. I’d been feeling so helpless and it was something I could do.”

Dad walks across the kitchen and stands next to Mom at the table. “Emma.”

A braver woman would look up, but right now, I am not brave. I’m the exact opposite of brave.

“I wrote that list two years ago, when you were engaged to Chase.”

I bite my lip. Mom has forgotten all about the stack of plates, the glasses of milk on the counter, the cookies in the bag. I think I might have permanently stolen her appetite.

“Sit down,” Dad says as he drops into a chair next to Mom.

I obey without question.

Dad lets out a long sigh. “Please look at me.”

I pull my attention away from my jacket zipper and force myself to give my father the attention he deserves.

“Do I want to give you away? Yes. It is something I have imagined from the moment you wrapped those tiny fingers around mine. But Emma, walking you down the aisle was never about me. It was about you.”

My eyes blur out of focus. I blink furiously, determinedly.

“For your joy.” Dad reaches across the table and sets his hand over mine. “Giving you away would only be special if the man I was giving you away to was prepared to love and cherish you the way I’ve always loved and cherished you.”

My chin trembles. “I wish that guy could be Jake.”

Mom and Dad don’t look shocked. I think they’ve always known. I think that’s why they believed us when we made the announcement. They never questioned my side of the equation.

“Maybe it will be,” Dad says.

I shake my head. “I gave him the opportunity and he didn’t take it.” I picture Jake, unmoving as I handed him back his grandmother’s ring. “He didn’t even reach.”

“Sometimes we men are slow to figure things out.” Dad smiles. “Give him some time. He might come around.”

As much as I would love for Dad to be right, I can’t help but think that if Jake hasn’t figured it out by now, he’s never going to figure it out.