I was too busy trying to survive the wedding.
I should have noticed it sooner.
The ceremony itself was beautiful.
Dad walked me down the aisle with his jaw set in that way he has when he’s trying not to cry, and halfway down he reached into his jacket with his free hand and touched the leather folder, the way he does sometimes without seeming to think about it, just checking it was there.
Then his hand came back and found mine again.
Russell watched me come toward him with an expression that made everything else fall away. For one hour, I believed we were going to be just fine.
The ceremony itself was beautiful.
Then came the reception.
Two hundred guests filled the ballroom. Crystal glasses, white roses, a cake taller than my niece. I was sitting with Dad.
That’s when Deborah rose from her seat at the family table.
