I married my high school sweetheart at seventy-three to honor his final wish—but after his funeral, his lawyer came to my door and said, “You walked straight into his trap.”

soon. But I’ve always dreamed of marrying you. Will you marry me? It’s my last wish.”

I could barely breathe. I couldn’t even blink.

Fifty-six years of “what if,” and here it was, thin and dying in a hospital bed, asking me the one question I’d never let myself imagine.

A voice in my head that sounded exactly like Raymond hissed, “Foolish old woman, don’t continue reading …