My mother opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I want to tell you I stood there calmly. That I’d planned for this.
I hadn’t.
My heart was slamming. My hands were ice cold. Everything I’d worked for over eighteen months, every careful step, every document, every “not yet,” and now it was happening in the middle of my wedding, with my veil on, in front of three hundred people.
I looked at the front of the church.
Daniel was still standing there. He hadn’t moved. He was looking right at me. Not at my parents. Not at Grandpa. At me.
He raised his eyebrows a tiny bit. Like a question.
What do you want to do?
And I realized it was my choice.
My mother was staring at me now. Not at Grandpa. At me. Her eyes were wide and wet and furious. And under the fury, something I’d never seen in her face before.
