The Goodbye Groom. Ellen James

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      “Actually, yes,” Eric said.

      So her intended had been truthful, up to a point. He’d told her that he was from the Northwest, that he’d grown up on the island of Saint-Anne, that he’d relocated to New Mexico because he’d always been fascinated by the Spanish architecture there.

      Wasn’t that the best way to lie? Be honest as far as you could. Just neglect to include certain crucial details.

      “Jamie,” Eric said. “For what it’s worth…good luck.” He gazed at her as if about to say something more. She glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t say anything at all. For just a brief second she’d seen pity in his expression.

      “Please,” she said, her voice raw. “Let’s just go.”

      Eric started the engine, put the truck into gear and drove her to the ferry.