I wanted to say no.
Instead, I slipped my hand through his.
Inside, my mother spotted us immediately.
“Leah! And you must be Owen.”
Her surprise was so visible it almost made me laugh.
Owen greeted her warmly, complimented the flower arrangements, and asked whether she needed help with anything before the ceremony.
Within five minutes, she’d recruited him to carry two boxes of wedding favors to the reception room.
I watched him obey without complaint.
Callum approached while Owen was gone.
He looked almost exactly as I remembered him: expensive watch, perfect haircut, confident smile.
“You’ve brought someone,” he said.
“Yes.”
“That was quick.”
“It’s been two years, Callum.”
His smile tightened.
“I’m only surprised you found someone willing to put up with your independence.”
I felt the old familiar pressure to explain myself.
Then Owen returned.
He didn’t wrap an arm around my waist or deliver a possessive speech.
He simply looked at me.
“Everything all right?”
I nodded.
“Would you like me to stay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
He stayed.
Something about that uncomplicated exchange unsettled me more than any grand romantic gesture could have.
During the ceremony, Kit walked down the aisle carrying her grandmother’s lace handkerchief, and Felix began crying before she’d reached him.
I cried too.
Owen offered me a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket.
“Prepared for everything?” I whispered.
“Only most things.”
His shoulder brushed mine as we watched the vows.
When Felix promised to listen even when he disagreed, I felt Owen glance toward me.
I pretended not to notice.
After the ceremony, guests gathered for photographs in the garden.
I slipped the folded rules into the shallow pocket of my navy dress while searching for my own handkerchief.
A breeze lifted the hem of my skirt.
Owen steadied a flower arrangement that was tipping on a nearby table.
I didn’t notice the cream paper fall.
But Callum did.
Later, I remembered seeing him stoop near the garden chairs and tuck something into his jacket.
At the time, I assumed it was a dropped wedding program.
The afternoon continued with laughter, photographs, and champagne beneath the glass roof.
Owen made my sister laugh by describing a theater production in which an automated spotlight had followed the wrong actor through an entire scene.
He spoke to Felix about the acoustics of old buildings.
He listened to my mother’s stories without interrupting.
He even helped Kit’s elderly aunt find her missing shawl.
The strange thing was that none of it looked rehearsed.
He wasn’t trying to impress anybody.
He was simply kind.
At dinner, he noticed I had barely touched my food.
“You should eat something,” he murmured.
“Are you always this observant?”
“Occupational hazard.
You learn to notice when the light changes.”
I smiled despite myself.
“And has the light changed?”
He looked at me for an unusually long moment.
“A little.”
My heart did something inconvenient.
Later, when the band began playing, he asked me to dance.
“You don’t have to,” I reminded him.
“I know.”
We moved among the other couples beneath strands of golden lights.
At first, I was painfully aware of his hand resting against my back, the warmth of his fingers around mine, the people watching.
Then he quietly asked whether I was comfortable.
I nodded.
