Nathan straightened.
Then he held out his arm.
“Ready?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“That’s not right.”
I laughed through tears.
“I’m ready.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
The doors opened.
A hundred and forty people stood.
I saw Daniel at the front.
I saw Mom in the first pew already crying.
I saw Margaret two seats down.
Then I stopped seeing anyone except Nathan.
He started counting under his breath.
“One.”
Step.
“Two.”
Step.
“Three.”
I squeezed his arm.
He looked at me.
“Too fast?”
“No.”
“I practiced.”
“I know.”
Lena’s photographers moved quietly, one near the front, another catching us from the side.
Nathan never rushed.
Never forgot.
Never let go.
Halfway down the aisle, his mouth started trembling.
I thought he was going to cry.
Instead, he whispered, “Dad would’ve liked your dress.”
