RRRIP.
The music stopped.
Brianna froze.
She tried again.
Another violent tearing noise echoed through the ballroom.
The lower back of her custom gown remained firmly attached to the upholstered chair.
Several guests gasped.
Someone near the bridal party whispered, “Oh my God.”
Brianna twisted around.
When she realized what had happened, the blood drained from her face.
Three bridesmaids rushed toward her with jackets and napkins.
Matthew stared at the ruined dress.
Then he looked across the table.
At me.
I raised my water glass.
Nothing more.
But his expression told me everything.
He knew.
Brianna disappeared upstairs.
Matthew followed her.
Claire leaned toward me.
“What in the world happened?”
“Wardrobe accident,” I said.
I hated lying to her.
But I wanted proof before I broke her heart.
Fifteen minutes later Matthew returned.
He didn't sit down.
He stopped behind my chair and leaned toward my ear.
“You changed the seats.”
I continued cutting my steak.
“Did I?”
His jaw tightened.
“That was supposed to be Mom’s chair.”
There it was.
Not even denial.
I slowly placed my knife down.
“So you knew.”
His expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Dad, it was stupid. Brianna was joking around.”
“Interesting definition of humor.”
“You humiliated my wife.”
I turned and looked at him.
“For what?”
Matthew said nothing.
I smiled faintly.
“That seems like a difficult sentence to finish, doesn't it?”
He straightened.
“You owe Brianna an apology.”
“No.”
Matthew blinked.
I almost understood his surprise.
For most of his life, whenever he pushed hard enough, one of us eventually gave in.
Usually Claire.
