My mother said I should stay in the kitchen during the wedding photos—only until the “important guests” were gone. I didn’t mention that for the past year I had been

I glanced at her. “I wasn’t calm,” I said. “I was contained.”

Clare’s eyes filled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” I said gently. “And I’m still here.”

She nodded, wiping her cheek. “I want to learn how to be here too,” she said. “For real. Even when it’s not pretty.”

I set the spoon down and pulled her into a hug. “Then stay,” I said. “And we’ll practice.”

Part 9

Wedding planning is supposed to be joyful.

For me, it felt like standing at the edge of a lake that might freeze or might swallow you whole.

Daniel and I started with a conversation that had nothing to do with venues.

“What do you want it to mean?” he asked me one night, sitting on my couch with a notepad.

I stared at the blank paper. “I want it to feel like us,” I said.

He nodded. “Define us.”

I smiled faintly. “Quiet truth,” I said. “Not a performance. Not a pageant. Not a power event.”

Daniel’s eyes softened. “Okay,” he said. “Then we do that.”

The first venue suggestions came from other people, not us. Historic mansions. Exclusive clubs. Places that sounded like they came with a dress code for your soul.

Then the Wellingtons called Clare.

I knew because Clare texted me immediately.