Milo took one look at my broken doll visage and his face, that face that all brides dream of, awe mixed with love and bits of tears, crumbled. His gaze shifted behind me to where I knew his mum was sitting, and he put a hand up like a school crossing guard. The music stopped and I felt like the tilt-a-wheel inside my gut slowed to a breathable pace.

"Melody?" Milo whispered and reached with his stop hand to grasp my trembling palm around my bouquet.

I still had no words. How were there so many jumbled in my head and none seemed to exit my god-forsaken mouth when I needed them to?  I shook my head. A keen, cousin to a sob, escaped my mouth. Milo looked bewildered for just a moment before his face changed into droopy eyes and downturned lips and then settled into grim determination. With my downcast eyes I could see my mum holding my dad back. He wanted to rescue me, his little girl. He shouldn't have, I'd done this. I'd been rescued too many times and had turned from damsel into villain for it.

Peripherally, I caught that Milo was whispering to the officiant.

I looked up at his face again finally when I felt him turn and tugged more than saw it. He led me off to the side and I could hear the man in the suit who was supposed to be in charge talking to the congregants. People had come from far and wider away to see me break a heart. To watch me break my own, again.

Milo led me to the small rooms off to the side of the chapel and once again I was looking at a man's feet while we decided our fate. No, that wouldn't do. My problem, I'd come to realize and ignore, was that I didn't face things. Literally, I turned tail and ran. And I didn't talk, I most certainly didn't communicate. I lifted my face to him and Milo looked kind, but broken, like a much older man.

"Milo—" I started, but didn't know where to go from there.

"Melody....I know." He tried to let me off the hook. If I had a talent, it seems it is for picking excellent men, who were exceedingly kind and understanding of me. I should have started a service, where I pick the best men for other more deserving women. I would have made a mint. It was a talent and a curse; It seemed to have let me get away with entirely too much. I had to say this.

"No, no, don't, don't give me any breaks!" I yelled, at myself. Then caught that my volume was directed in his innocent direction.  "Sorry! I can't, I can't marry you!  I should, you are everything a woman could ever want. But, but, I'm not for you. I thought I was, when I said yes. But, but, I've been trying to figure out what I wanted since then. Or how to tell you." I ran out of breath when I looked at his perfect face. "I don't, I don't know how I let it get this far!"

"No, no, Corazon." That cut. "I know, I've fucking known for months. I think I knew when you didn't want to wear the ring at first. It seems likes most brides-to-be can't wait to show off their ring. But, I think you maybe would still not be wearing it if you could, no?" He pulled my hand up then and caught the peace ring right next to his offering. He fingered it. "And when you told me you found you had feelings for your ex, I should have listened to what you were really saying, not what I wanted to hear. This his?" He looked down, and I took his other hand.

I nodded. The ring was Harry's, as I was too. Though I had no pretensions that he was still mine. I breathed, I could only solve one riddle at a time. I had to face this flaming bridge before I could move onto trying to rebuild my other ruins. Milo deserved my full attention while I runaway-brided him.

"I'm so sorry! I love you and you are a better man than anyone I've ever known. Harry..." That name hurt to say out loud. I hadn't since the day he left my parents house. "Included." I forced it out. "But the truth is, he and I aren't finished. Well I'm not finished, and as much as I want to give you my heart and my hand, I don't seem to have them to give. I thought I could, when we met. I really did. And I'm a fool, I know I am, for not choosing you. I've been trying to." I wanted to shrug, but the gesture was to relaxed for the situation. Though, for a break up, the only one I'd ever had in real time, it was going well, especially considering our attire and the venue.

"Melody!" He sighed. "You don't see yourself, Corazon. A little in your head, too much I think." He pressed two fingers to my temple. "Hard on yourself. But smarter than you should be, beautiful and thoughtful. Even half way in, you are a good partner." He swallowed then, "Were. And I think we are both fools. For letting it get this far. I'm sure that I will be angry with you soon, but right now I just feel sorry."

I sighed too, "You have every right. When you are ready, to yell at me, let me know. I'll come to take my lumps." I gave him a watery smile. I felt better than I had in months despite everything, like the two ton weight on my back was lifted and even the prospect of walking out to the assembled eyes didn't daunt me as it should.

"Mama told me, you know." He chucked my chin.

"What?" I was confused by his non-sequitur, I thought we were planning my tar and feathering.

"She told me, when you came to visit." He took my hand and brought me over to sit near him on a hard wooden bench. It was lucky my dress wasn't a ball gown, or we wouldn't have fit. I sat beside him and it was the closest I'd felt to him in months. It was the most honest I'd ever been.

"Mama looked at you and said you were beautiful and lovely, but that you were taken. She told me again, called me after your dress appointment. Told me you were mourning another wedding instead of planning ours." He sighed again. "I should have listened to her, but I just wanted you." There was an edge in his voice then. A bit of the tidal wave of hurt to come. "She always knows. When do you think we learn to just trust what our mothers say?"

I laughed out loud and the release of emotion was the trickle before a dam break. And Milo smiled at me. "That sounds like a story, Melly! Want to share?"

"My mum, when Harry and I had it out, she told me to go after him, that I'd be a fool to not go after him. I asked her about you. She said you deserved a wife in love with you." At that my voice broke with the levee and the tears came like a deluge. "I'm a fool who should have listened to my mother."

Milo wiped his own tears, then handed me his pocket square for mine. "A right pair we should have made." His smile is grim and I'm sorry.

"I do love you, ya know." I clutched his hand and thought about how the fit was lovely, of his warm strong palm against my smaller one, but how my long fingers slipped through his too easily. There was not a mesmerizing tangle like I remembered. It was perfect, just not.

"Yeah, but not like you love him." It wasn't a question.

"I don't think I could love anyone like that. Honestly," My voice broke a little. "'Most times I don't want to love him like I do. It's ...." I gestured with big wide hands because I didn't know how to convey it in words.

Milo nodded then looked at me. "We should probably go tell these people that there is not wedding but still a party, no? We can have a last dance instead of a first?" He was sad and I was too, and I'd have to ask him later how he came to be so very gracious. I would be stomping and angry about something, including the expense. But, right then, I decided to just be thankful. I was sure that there would be consequences later, maybe even great ones, but I was alright living the next few hours like this was a wake not a funeral.

We walked out and the crowd was restless. Milo's frenemies from work nudged each other and that was another thing that I was sorry for. His mama looked knowing, so did Kara, and inexplicably, my parents looked proud.

We held hands as we came to the front of the aisle and my soon to be ex held them aloft. "Melody and I have decided that we aren't here to get married today. That we are not meant to be husband and wife, but she will always be my heart," he looked at me then and we shared an aquatic smile.

"And Milo, my darling. Our love story ends today instead of begins." He squeezed my hand and sniffed. Then looked forward.

"However, we have already paid for an amazing party." I thought how happy I was I changed the band back to Milo's favorite for a surprise at that moment. "And we want you to enjoy our hospitality!" He made a magnanimous gesture like Lumiere in The Beauty and The Beast production we once saw and I giggled at him.

One day, I hoped we could be great friends. If Harry was ok with it. If he is in a position to care. Normally, I would think certainly, but he was jealous of Milo in a surprising way. And I was making plans sure to break my heart right along the middle seam following that line of thought.

The processional played, and Milo threw an affectionate and completely needed arm over my shoulder. I pulled him into an alcove and hugged him with all my might when we made it out of the fray. "Thank you! I can't thank you enough, love. I'm
Not sure you are even real."

He shook his tear stained head at me. "I'm not, I'm a mirage, I guess, and I need to get to where we are going soon."

"And I need to change." I pointed at the bridal room and he nodded with a brave smile as I slipped away. I spied Maria Luisa coming up and I was happy he wouldn't be alone. I caught Milo's expression dropping as his mama laid a hand on his back.

The penalties of this heartbreak were on parole right now, but if I learned nothing, that would be my greatest crime. I needed to get better, I've gotta get better at least.

Once I'd given myself a look in the freestanding glass, I realized that I couldn't undress myself and flailed my arms a moment. I went to pull out my phone and texted Kara to come help me- The screen was still black, no little green emblem from Harry to stop me from going full speed into a wall.

Still, better, I had found my own red light at the end of the altar, and that felt right, but the absence of his contact -H with a string of emojis, kiwi included-made me sad.

But I had a wake to throw. There was no time to fall apart. I'd been eroding for months, and it was time to plant something in me to stop the weathering.

The knock on the door I assumed was Kara.

"Come in!" I called and recognized my own voice for the first time that day.

I was surprised to see my mother.

"I thought you could use a hand." She explained and made her way behind me. Her eyes were a little wet as she took in my appearance. I was still flawless from the neck down, but my eyes were a little wet and my lipstick had come off between my teeth. It was better.

"Thanks, mum. I wasn't sure how to get out of this thing myself. But it seems a bit much for a party."

"I'm proud of you." She barked suddenly with the zipper mid-way down my back.

"You're proud of me for breaking up my wedding?" I knew she wasn't on board with the marriage, her silence had made that clear, very clear, but I couldn't see how me letting myself get all the way down the aisle was a point of parental pride.

"You're proud of me?" My brow was really trying to live up to Kara's example, but instead my sizable forehead was full of wrinkles.

"Did you know that I was married before?" She was avoiding my eyes entirely. And no, no! I didn't know that.

"You were?" I was flabbergasted.

"Yeah, did you ever wonder why we didn't see much of my parents?"

"Not really, I guess it was just the way that it was."

She nodded as she helped me take off the dress itself. It was a lighter fabric than others, part of why I favored it, but it was still a relief to have it off.

"They didn't like your father.They really pressured me to marry Jacob, my first husband. His family was moneyed and a good contact for my dad's business."

I thought about it and realized that my grandparents did have a large house near the beach and that when I was little I wished we lived there. I did vaguely remember my mum snapping at me when I threw a fit about leaving one time.

"But, I had met your dad, not long into the engagement, and I knew that he was the man for me, but I, um, I did what I thought I was supposed to." She was unlacing the corset the dress required and not looking at me. She sounded so guilty.

"Did you break Jacob's heart?" I asked, thinking about the way Milo's face crumpled when his mama came to him and he could let his mask slip.

"Oh no. He was a bit of an ass. Well, more than a bit. But I did find myself cheating." At this she bit her lip and looked at me in the mirror. "I'm not proud of it, but I was young and unhappy. And your dad..." She flapped her hands at my sides. "Well, it scared me how much I loved him."

I knew a bit about that.

"We, we, um, we got caught. And, well, strangely, it was such a relief. My parents didn't speak to me for years and my whole life changed. Learning about limited resources caused lots of fights, as did moving right in with your father since I was homeless, but I just paid him in sex and he got distracted!"

"Mum!" I yelped.

"Melody, come now, Harry stayed at the house." She eyed me meaningfully and I knew the skin she had uncovered was bright red. It seemed unfair that she was baring herself, but not only was I getting naked, she was stripping me too. "I could tell how it was. And I remember, well not so much remember, as still know."

I wanted to be disgusted, but I was so much more surprised, my mum and dad certainly respected each other but seemed very contained for the passionate affair she was hinting at. So I just nodded for her to continue.

"In any case, when you brought Milo home, at first I tried to be supportive, but I could tell your heart wasn't in it when you came to pick a dress, and then when Harry came for you..." She sighed and turned to hand me a white dress. "Melody, can I ask? Why didn't you go after that boy that day? He wanted you to."

"I, I, Mum, I don't think, I don't think I deserve him." Tears pricked at my eyelids. "I'm not sure what's wrong with me. But, I used to write for hours about my feelings, but I can't, I can't seem to say them or connect to them. Follow them, not anymore. I wanted to go to him too. But I just couldn't. That's why I can't have him, not until I can tell him I want him, or how I love him, at the least."

"Did you ever think you should write them instead, your feelings?" She zipped up my white reception dress and it was so much more comfortable and I knew that Harry would love it so, and I wanted to take a picture to send him. Caption it my unreception dress, but, if he wasn't answering my texts, for who knows what reason, long flight, meetings, hate, what good would it do. I just wanted to tell him I didn't marry another man. I realized my mom was looking at me expectantly in the mirror with her hands on my shoulders while I towered over her with my height and heels, but she was still my mommy and I her overgrown baby.

It was comforting while I demo-ed my life in my quest to forge a new one, a better one where I wasn't  making decisions because I was scared, that some things, like mum, were solid. And healthy, she was still healthy. I put my hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry Mum, lost the plot there. I'm a bit all over the place. What?"

"You could write them instead? S'what I said. If you can't say them out loud. Truth is, I used to sneak in to read your diary. Not to check on you, mind, but to see where your head was at. You got really quiet when you were about 10 years old, not that you were ever a terribly chatty thing. I rather enjoyed it, most of the time. But I wanted to knock that Jack's block off. It helped, right?"

"Yeah, but I haven't been able to put pen to paper in..." I thought about it and wanted to cry for a bloody new reason. "Well for years, mum! Lord, that's so sad." And I did cry a little bit for it, though there were lots of things to cry about on my wedding day, and misplaced dreams seemed last in line. And yet, the tears sprang anew for the fault line I recognized in me. I ran from the things I wanted most - Harry, writing, the self I wanted to be.

"Well," my mother turned me to herself. "I have a gift for you in that case." She wiped under my eyes and I handed her the handkerchief Milo had given me. She looked at the monogram and smiled. "Think you can be friends with him? He really is the best of us." I think she meant humanity, but certainly between he and I.

I nodded just before mum looked down to the small purse she was once again carrying. It fit the occasion, but it brought a small smile to my face through the wet feelings, that she still couldn't find anything even in its tiny confines. She a-ha'd a moment later and drew out a trifold of papers.

"Before we did everything on the internet these sorts of things looked so much more impressive." She gave a good natured complaint and handed the papers to me. I opened it and gasped. "When it was actually tickets. I think we can cash in Milo's. Your dad and I had a feeling, a hope really, that you'd pull your head out of your arse, we got insurance."

"Mum!" I breathed, "it's too much!" I saw as I looked over the travel package. Weeks in Jamaica. Jamaica had Harry's name on it too. Even said I would love it.

"Nonsense! You know your dad had an account for your wedding. This came out of that. I think he's offering Milo the rest. Not sure he'll accept it, maybe not today. But, if he doesn't get a bride, maybe we can help with the financial loss." She shrugged and waited until I looked up at her. "I'm assuming if you get married again, the bloke will be able to cover it."

"Mum," I heard what she wasn't saying and I shook my head at the idea. Harry didn't respond to me. He may never again. "I don't think, I'm not sure that can ever happen again."

"Melody, you can have forgiveness, but you have to ask for it. And if you want more, you need to fight for it! I love you girl, but I'm not sure when all the fight went out of you. Go to Jamaica, on your un-honeymoon and get your feet under you, write, then find a way back to Harry. You both deserve it."

I didn't agree, but I felt like we had run out of time to argue. Also, I was learning maybe I should listen to my mother.  I needed to go to my un-reception. Needed to check on Milo, see if he was ready to stop playing nice. But I needed something else too. "Mum, will you take a picture of me?"

"Whatever for?" She took the phone I handed her.

"Dunno really, but, I feel like I thought this would end the world, if I disappointed everybody, but...." I looked to my beautiful blue suede wedding shoes. "I'm still breathing and I feel," I grasped at air. "I feel strong. I want to remember."

Mum smiled and looked oddly proud again, her brow smooth and clear. She sat her things down and I was glad that iPhones still made a click, Like a punctuation mark on the action.

With my odd impulse satisfied, we made our way to the reception and though I thought this entire thing, not getting married, would be like climbing a mountain, instead it felt more like the downhill you'd earned after you've created the peak of a hike. It was all a pleasant surprise, and though I saw a few asides and snickers from guests, everybody seemed to have a nice time.

Milo especially, he smiled and danced with his mama and friends and even me, though he did give me a wider berth than ever in our acquaintance. I had a good time too, and again I was surprised. I expected to be lashed to the bow and keel hauled for this, but instead, I danced on the deck with the crew Milo and I assembled when we pretended our journey would be life-long.

Milo and I shared our first/last dance spending our turns around the floor talking while Frankie sang about the way we looked. And it was special, we would never be that lovely again. To each other l'm sure, and I hoped to never look so superficially flawless again based on recent self-discoveries. I wanted a mess. Milo would always be flawless and I knew I'd always be grateful for him.

"What would you tell yourself if you met me for the first time all over again?" I asked with his comforting palms against my waist. "Run?" I tried to joke.

He shook his head with a little chiding frown. "No, not today, maybe tomorrow?" he half joked. "I would tell myself, 'She will be a great love for you, but not your only. Do it anyway.'" His eyes were wet and sincere. "And you, what would you tell yourself?"

I was thankful for eyelash extensions and setting spray myself. It was a brave response, and I wanted to be as honest as him. I want to be honest. "I'd tell her, the girl I was, that she will be lucky to have you, but that she should be honest and learn to say no."

He looked at the ground and his jaw clenched a bit. "I might tell myself to take no for an answer, I never was good at that, especially with you."

"Right pair we are!" I chorused and leaned my forehead against his. "You run towards no, and I run from yes." And a tear slipped down my cheek and onto his lips.

"Right pair we were." He emphasized the last word and it hurt, but felt like relief, like pulling a splinter from under the skin. "Maybe I will learn to hear no, and you will learn to trust yes?"

"I hope so. I hope you find a real yes. I hope I can hear yes one day and not doubt it."

Then his facade cracked a little, because the tinge of his voice was red, "honestly, I probably won't ever trust a yes again. And I really hope you learn to say what you mean. And not just for whoever gets you, but for you too."

He stopped talking to me then and didn't speak to me for the rest of the dance. And he held me a little farther away for the last few bars. But that was okay. The dance and the night ended and I kept waiting for the cymbal crash or the death rattle, but it didn't come.

I went to Kara's hotel after Milo and I agreed on a time he would be out of our apartment for me to move my things. He was finally angry by then, and told me it would be best if he didn't see me when I did it.

I cried on Kara's shoulder in the same bedding she had at our place and told her about what I was doing while she was being maid of dishonor extraordinaire and putting out my fires at the reception.

She was excited for me and Jamaica.  "I demand you send me every word you write!"

"They may be dreck!" I admitted.

"As long as they are honest." She is quiet for a moment, but I wait for the question on the air. "Are you gonna call him?"

"Only when I'm honest." I decided out loud.

"I'll hold you to that." She promised and pulled me to her in the bed we had spooned ourselves together in.

"Please do."

Days later on the plane, when I was looking through the pictures on my phone, I found the one that seemed all important for my mum to take and I understood why. The girl there looked a little younger, a little messier than the one in the earlier pictures, not perfect.

But true.