Not during photographs.
Not at dinner.
Not when Ethan gave an enthusiastic speech about Adrian being “good enough” to marry me.
Not when the photographer took approximately twenty separate pictures of Ethan and me.
Margaret said nothing.
Eight weeks later, our wedding photographs arrived.
The main album was beautiful.
I expected that.
Ceremony.
Vows.
Family.
Reception.
First dance.
Cake.
Then came the second album.
The one Margaret knew nothing about.
I opened it alone first.
Page one:
Ethan sitting while Adrian helped with his cufflink.
Page two:
A close photograph of Dad’s cufflinks on Ethan’s wrists.
Page three:
Ethan checking his watch.
Page four:
Ethan standing alone inside Cedarbrook Chapel’s rear corridor.
Arm bent.
Practicing.
Then the doors.
Ethan looking at me for the first time in my wedding dress.
His expression was enough to make me cry before I reached page ten.
