Chapter 24: Who Gives This Woman

The wedding was on a Saturday in September, at the register office on the river.

I had asked for twelve guests.

By the Thursday there were fourteen.

Teddy had invited the bartender from the hotel on Fifth Avenue, and the man had bought a plane ticket.

The envelope from Hugh had arrived in July.

It was thick and cream, addressed in his square, neat writing.

I had put it in the drawer of my bedside table without opening it.

That morning I took it out and held it.

"You don't have to," Rhys said from the doorway.

He was in his shirtsleeves, with our daughter asleep on his shoulder and a spot of milk on his collar.

"I know."

"Do you want to?"

"Not today."

"Then it can wait."

"It can wait a year," I said. "Or ten. I'll know when."

I put it back and shut the drawer.

He crossed the room and kissed the top of my head, and the baby stirred and complained.

"She wants her mother."

"She wants her breakfast."

"It's the same thing."

I took her, and she latched on, and I looked up at him over her dark head.

"You're going to be late," I said.

"I've been waiting for this since February."

"I said yes in February."

"I said I'd wait for the date, and the date has been a very long time coming."

Teddy came in at ten with a buttonhole in his lapel and a clean shirt.

He had put on weight, and the lip had healed without a mark.

He looked rested, for the first time since I had known him.

"Hold still," he said, and pinned a white rose to my coat.

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