“One point nine?” Ethan said. “Brandon, are you marrying a woman or annexing a small European country?”
Margaret laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were the rude one for noticing the knife hidden inside it.
“It’s a wedding,” she said. “Not a county fair.”
Brandon just spread his hands. “Chloe’s family has certain expectations. The Canelis know everyone. We can’t do some farmhouse thing with mason jars and a bluegrass trio.”
“Who’s paying for it?” Ethan asked.
A tiny silence fell over the table.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just enough to change the temperature of the room.FoodHarold studied his plate like it held legal terms.
Margaret lifted her wineglass and took a slow sip before setting it down with a precise click.
“The family is helping,” she said.
“How much helping?” Ethan asked.
