“Answer the question.”
“She was upset.
She got upset about twenty minutes ago and I took her somewhere quiet so she could have a minute without eighty people looking at her.” Pamela reached out and put a hand on my forearm.
“I should have come and found you.
That’s on me.
I thought I was handling it.”
It was, I want to be clear, an excellent answer.
It accounted for the facts.
It contained an apology.
It was delivered by a woman in a wedding dress three minutes before her wedding with entirely steady eyes.
If Hannah had not told me four things in a corridor, I would have believed it.
I would have said okay and squeezed her hand and we would have gotten married.
“She says you told her to stay in there until the ceremony was over.”
“She’s nine and she was upset.
I said stay here for a bit.
Chris, kids hear—”
“She says you told her it would make people uncomfortable to see Rebecca’s daughter standing up here with me.”
And there — right there — was the first thing.
