My mother crying in the front pew.
Me with one hand over my mouth.
Adrian beside me.
Ethan standing in the middle.
Exactly where Margaret had not wanted him.
Exactly where he belonged.
I closed the album.
Then cried for twenty minutes.
The following Sunday, we had family dinner at our house in Bellmere.
My mother came.
Ethan came.
Adrian’s parents came.
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I placed both wedding albums on the coffee table.
I did not announce them.
Did not tell Margaret anything.
Did not create some dramatic reveal.
That would have made it about her.
I refused.
After dinner, I went into the kitchen.
When I returned, Margaret was sitting on the sofa.
The second album rested on her knees.
She was halfway through.
I stopped.
She did not notice me immediately.
She turned a page.
Then another.
Finally she reached the photograph of Ethan at the chapel doors.
Arm extended.
Waiting for me.
His lips slightly parted.
Counting.
Margaret touched the edge of the page.
Then asked quietly:
“He practiced?”
I stood behind the couch.
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