Chapter 20: Heron Hall

Heron Hall had been my favorite room in Chicago.

I had picked its chandeliers.

I had chosen the long windows over the river and the creamy runner down the aisle.

On the Saturday of the reception I walked in through the front doors in the blue dress, with Nathan's hand at the small of my back.

He wore a charcoal suit that fit him across the shoulders, and for most of the car ride I had tried not to look at his hands.

"Last chance," he said quietly at the coat check. "We can leave."

"We can't."

"Then I stay one step behind you."

"One step to the left."

"I know where my hand goes," he said, and his thumb moved once against my spine.

I felt it all the way down.

Behind us came Brett's father and mother, arm in arm.

Behind them came Trent and Colin, in borrowed jackets, both of them gray in the face.

The ballroom held a hundred and twenty people.

I knew forty of them.

Brett's cousins.

Two of my old coworkers.

The planner who had listed Kendra as Primary Contact, standing by the cake with a clipboard and a stiff face.

At the front, under the chandelier, Kendra stood in a white dress.

It was not my dress.

It was a better one, closer-fitted, with a lace back.

Brett stood beside her in a tux with his hands at his sides.

He looked pale and stiff, and he did not look at the guests.

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