She smiled, but there was something in her eyes—something like doubt—that I brushed aside.
The ceremony went off beautifully. My dad walked me down the aisle, my mom stood proudly in the front row, and Ryan’s family sat opposite, beaming. When the officiant pronounced us husband and wife, I felt like nothing could possibly go wrong.
I was wrong.
The ballroom sparkled with fairy lights. Laughter mingled with the clink of glasses. I floated from table to table in a blissful haze… until I overheard it.
Ryan’s mother, Helen, was speaking to a group of her friends near the dessert table. She didn’t realize I was standing just behind the floral arrangement.
“I don’t understand why she”—I knew instantly she meant Claire—“is sitting up front like she’s the bride’s real mother. Honestly, it’s inappropriate. This is a family event, and step-people should know their place.”
