a scene.
We stayed.
The girls had to be there for the cake and the father-daughter dance and the bouquet toss. I’d promised Ava I’d be there the whole time. So I was.
We sat at our table near the back. Edward and me and, eventually, the girls, who abandoned the wedding party table and came to sit with us. People kept coming over. Strangers, mostly. Claire’s aunts. Max’s cousins. A woman I’d never met who squeezed my hand and said, “My first husband was exactly like that. Good for you, honey.”
Jenny came over twice. The second time, she brought us four slices of cake.
“Two for the girls, and two for you,” she said. “And Hannah, eat every single bite. In front of him. Slowly.”
I laughed. And I ate it. Slowly. It was lemon cake with raspberry filling. It was delicious.
Max’s mother, Linda, came over near
