The officiant pretended to consider.

“My fee remains the same.”

More laughter.

The tension finally began dissolving.

Guests sat.

The quartet repositioned their instruments.

Daniel took both my hands.

Behind us, the screen went dark.

No more evidence.

No more secrets.

The officiant smiled.

“Shall we try this again?”

“Yes,” I said.

Daniel’s eyes never left mine.

The vows we exchanged that afternoon weren’t the legal vows.

Those had already happened.

These were different.

Maybe more important.

Daniel promised never to confuse protecting me with choosing for me.

I promised never again to call silence peace when silence required abandoning myself.

Then it was my turn to say what I had written.

I unfolded a small piece of paper.

My hands shook.

“Daniel, when I met you, I thought love meant finding someone who would always know what was best for me.”

My mother’s shoulders moved slightly.

I continued.

“But you taught me that love is the opposite.”

Daniel’s eyes filled.

“Love is asking instead of assuming. Listening instead of arranging. Standing beside someone without standing in front of them.”

I swallowed.

“And when I forget that I have a voice, you don’t speak for me.”

My voice broke.

“You remind me I have one.”

Daniel wiped his eyes.

Somebody behind us sniffled loudly.

Probably his father.

The officiant smiled.

“You may kiss your wife.”

Daniel whispered,

“Again?”

I laughed.

“Again.”

He kissed me.

And three hundred people rose.

For the rest of the evening, the wedding became something my mother could never have planned.

Messy.

Emotional.

Unscheduled.

Perfect.

Mrs. Bellamy drank champagne with Daniel’s father.

My aunt Rebecca danced barefoot.

The quartet eventually abandoned classical music and joined the band for a disastrous version of a rock song.

Someone placed the discarded Celestine skirt over a chair.

By midnight, three children were hiding underneath it like a crystal tent.

I laughed so hard when I saw them that my stomach hurt.

Lila disappeared for almost two hours.

I found her eventually on the balcony.

She was barefoot.

Mascara streaked her cheeks.

The city glittered below us.

She didn’t turn when I approached.

“Ryan left.”

“I know.”

“He won’t answer me.”

I didn’t say anything.

She laughed bitterly.

“Bet you’re enjoying that.”

“No.”

She looked over.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Something about my answer made her angrier.

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act better than me.”

I stared at her.

“I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“You’re the responsible one. Mara the sensible one. Mara who saves money. Mara who never embarrasses anybody. Mara who gets the good man and the tasteful apartment and the perfect job.”

I almost laughed.

“Lila, do you actually believe that’s how Mom sees me?”