16
DRESSED IN YOGA pants and a T-shirt, Fianna paced in Lizzie’s room, wondering how much longer her sister would be gone. She should be back by now. The wedding was in mid-afternoon.
Emily stopped in the doorway, holding her carrot-topped, two-year-old daughter, who was complaining about being carried. Her four-year-old son was tugging on her hand, whining about a toy his older brother had taken from him. “Any word from Lizzie yet?”
“Mam said she went out for a run almost two hours ago.” Fianna turned a cotton scarf in her hands, twisting it into knots, which was exactly the way her stomach felt. Had something happened to her sister? “I’m worried, Emily.”
“Did she take her phone?”
“No, it’s here.” If Lizzie was planning to skip the wedding, she would’ve taken her phone. Wouldn’t she?
