Chapter 17: The Anniversary

Justine's POV

The Grand Room at the Hartwell had gold double doors, and a man in a black jacket stood beside them to turn people away.

My father and I waited ten feet down the corridor, where the carpet swallowed our voices.

He wore the suit he'd bought for my wedding.

He had said nothing about it, and I had said nothing back.

"You don't have to be in there," I told him.

"I do," he said. "I'm your father. It's the only place I want to be."

My mother had stayed upstairs with her rosary and a promise to watch the livestream Gianna's cousin had set up.

The elevator opened, and Clive came out with an older man in a green jacket that had been pressed that afternoon.

The groundskeeper looked like he wanted to apologize to the carpet.

"Ma'am," he said to me. "I put on a tie."

"You look great," I said, and meant it.

"I never been in a place like this. I told the lady in the office I'd come as long as nobody made me talk loud."

"Nobody will," I said. "Just say what you told us."

He nodded and straightened the tie.

Clive had stopped three steps back.

He wore a dark coat and no tie, and there was a cut healing on his cheekbone where the bruise had been.

I had not heard his voice in two days.

"He didn't have a car, so I drove him," Clive said. "That's all I'm doing."

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