Then Daniel took my hand under the table and squeezed it once.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said.
Not to me.
To her.
I turned my head slowly.
For half a second, I thought he meant we’d figure out how to get rid of Nathan.
Then I saw his face.
Daniel wasn’t agreeing with her.
He was stopping me.
Not because she deserved protection.
Because he knew me.
He knew that if I started, I wouldn’t stop.
And once I stopped, Margaret would become the story of that night.
The argument would spread.
Calls would happen.
Families would choose sides.
Nathan might hear something.
It was my wedding.
I wasn’t handing her the story of the night I screamed at her table.
So I smiled.
Actually smiled.
And said, “The salmon was very good.”
