He came in and hugged me tightly, and over his shoulder, I watched Evan watching him. A quick look passed between them, almost playful, like a private joke I had not been invited into.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Peter said, pulling back. “I was just telling Evan this morning. Eight months ago, you couldn’t get out of bed. Look at you now.”
“You picked a good one for me, big brother.”
“I always do.”
He kissed my cheek and held out his arm, and I took it.
The music began. The doors opened. Two hundred faces turned toward me, and I walked down the aisle on my brother’s arm, certain at last that I had made the right choice.
Halfway down the aisle, I saw Peter silently mouth something to Evan through my veil. I could not read the words. I told myself it did not matter.
The vows were still echoing in my chest when the reception dissolved into laughter and the ringing of glasses. I moved through the ballroom like a woman finally forgiven by her own life, accepting cheek kisses, smiling for photographs, and letting strangers tell me how radiant I looked.
Across the room, Evan stood beside the cake with my brother, their heads close together, two champagne flutes lifted in a private toast.
Peter laughed at something Evan said. Evan laughed too, the kind of laugh that sounded practiced for an audience that was not paying attention.
I almost went to them. Then Sophie appeared beside my hip.
Her flower crown had slipped to one side, and one small white shoe was missing. She tugged at the lace of my waist hard enough to pull a stitch.
“Mommy.”
I knelt carefully, mindful of the veil, and cupped her cheek.
“What is it, baby?”
“Evan and Uncle Peter were bad.”
The music continued playing. Somewhere behind me, a guest laughed too loudly at a joke I could not hear.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
Sophie pressed her face into my skirt.
“I was told not to tell. But you said I have to tell you everything.”
“That’s right. So tell me. Why were they bad?”
She looked toward the cake, then back at me, her little voice trembling the way it did when she had broken something and was afraid to admit it.
“They were in the garden room. The one with the green couch. Uncle Peter said papers. Evan said when you sign, the money goes.”
I kept my hand steady against her back.
