“The photographs. The seating. The atmosphere. Daniel, we’ve spent months making this perfect.”
He glanced at me.
My ivory gloves were still folded over my lap.
My wheelchair was still angled slightly away from the aisle because I had done everything possible to take up less visual space.
Then he looked at Emily again.
“And she makes it less perfect?”
Emily’s voice dropped.
“That’s not what I said.”
“It is exactly what you said to me,” I answered.
I had not planned to speak.
Once I started, I realized my voice was steadier than I felt.
“You said I was ruining the atmosphere and the perfect image of your wedding.”
Emily’s cheeks flushed.
“You’re taking it in the worst possible way.”
“There isn’t a good way to take that sentence.”
Mark finally moved.
He turned toward Daniel and said, “She said it.”
Emily spun toward him.
“Dad.”
His shoulders sagged.
