CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
NORA
The Second First Night
Our reception takes place in the rink lobby beneath my photographs.
Not portraits of us. Images of the work that built the foundation. Eli's bag. The little goalie. Theo's snack campaign. Volunteers carrying equipment during the storm.
The children eat too much cake. June dances with Mr. Alvarez. My mother corners Ingrid about Norwegian wool. Lucas and Sloane argue beside the coat rack with the intensity of people one conversation away from disaster.
Rhett and I dance on clear flooring above the ice.
"Rich people emergency?" he asks.
"Recognized."
His hand rests at my waist. Mine curves around his shoulder.
This time, the distance between us is chosen only for movement.
At the new house, boxes fill every room. Our bed is assembled. Nothing else is.
We eat leftover cake on the floor of the kitchen with the partial wall.
"Mrs. Callahan?" he says cautiously.
"Professionally, Bennett. Legally, Bennett Callahan. Privately, depends whether you burn sauce."
"Clear."
Upstairs, north light will fill my studio tomorrow. Tonight, moonlight crosses empty floors.
Rhett takes off my dress slowly.
There is desire, but no need to make the night prove the vows. We have already learned that bodies can tell the truth without predicting the future.
Still, when he says my name, I answer without whispering.
Later, we lie on a mattress in a room that belongs to neither old life.
"Are you afraid?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Me too."
I take his hand.
Being afraid and going are allowed to happen together.