of me wanted to take my son outside and ask him one more time what was happening.
But I hesitated.
Maybe I was being overly protective.
Maybe wedding stress was making everything seem worse than it really was.
So I returned to my table.
For the next twenty minutes, I watched Vanessa happily talking with her relatives.
Her mother sat nearby in that blue gown, chatting with the other women wearing the same color.
Grant barely spoke.
He answered people when they addressed him directly, but something had changed.
His
