I leave the door open.
She notices.
Good.
She wraps her arms around herself. “I ruined the mood.”
“No.”
“I asked about vows and then made it weird.”
“You asked about vows because you are thinking about your own.”
Her lips press together.
I wait.
That is something I have learned from Legend, though he would be offended by being credited with patience. Sometimes silence lets truth come without dragging it.
Amelia looks toward the open door, where laughter rises from the main room again. Cornbread yells something about pulled-pork cornbread being misunderstood.
“My wedding was pretty,” she says.
Her voice is distant.
“That’s the part I hate. It was pretty. White flowers. Church candles. My mother cried because she thought I’d done better than her. Jeremy cried during the vows, and I thought that meant he loved me.”
She laughs once.
No humor in it.
“Now I think he was proud of himself for getting the door locked.”
My chest hurts.
I sit on the edge of the desk, giving her space. “Marriage did not cage you. Jeremy did.”
Her eyes shine. “What if I can’t tell the difference anymore?”
“You will.”
“How?”
“By watching what happens when you say no.”
That lands.
I can see it.
Her mouth trembles. “Derby stopped.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted him to kiss me.”
“I know.”
Her eyes snap to mine.