“You’re Going to Fix This”
Sophia disappeared upstairs surrounded by bridesmaids.
Lucas reached me less than five minutes later.
He leaned over the table.
His voice was low.
“You moved them.”
I looked up.
“Moved what?”
“The chairs.”
Clara frowned.
“Lucas, what is going on?”
“Nothing, Mom.”
He turned back to me.
“You did that deliberately.”
I folded my napkin beside my plate.
“Did what deliberately?”
His jaw tightened.
“You embarrassed my wife.”
The accusation was almost impressive.
“You believe I embarrassed her?”
“You knew what would happen!”
Before I could answer, Clara touched my wrist.
“Arthur, please. Whatever happened, this is their wedding.”
That sentence explained why Lucas had behaved as he did for years.
He believed his mother would absorb anything rather than ruin his happiness.
Lucas straightened.
“You need to go upstairs and apologize to Sophia.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
I could not remember the last time I had given my son such a simple answer.
Perhaps neither could he.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “She’s furious.”
“I imagine she is.”
“You’ll tell the guests there was a mistake with the chairs.”
“No.”
His face hardened.
“Dad.”
“That is my answer.”
For once, Clara did not ask me again to keep the peace.
Perhaps some instinct had already told her there was more happening than she understood.
There was.
Much more.
For illustrative purposes only
