anything.”
Edward stared at me.
Then he smiled. A huge, slow, unsure smile, like the sun coming up.
“Okay,” he said. “Saturday.”
“And Edward?”
“Yeah?”
“You were wrong about one thing.”
“What?”
“You don’t dance like a refrigerator falling down stairs.” I smiled. “You dance like two refrigerators.”
He laughed so loud he woke June up.
The next few months weren’t perfect. Real life never is.
Max called me two days after the wedding. He was angry. He said I’d humiliated him on the most important day of his life. He said he was going to talk to his lawyer about the custody arrangement. He said Edward was a bad influence on his daughters.
I let him talk.
When he was done, I said, “Max, Ava told me what you said about June at the rehearsal dinner. I told my lawyer. I wrote it down. If you want to
