PREVIEW

... like the gates of heaven. Inside, the venue was still frozen in that awkward post-chaos stillness.

Half-eaten hors d’oeuvres sat on silver trays, a champagne flute teetered dangerously close to a bridesmaid’s elbow, and someone’s veil was hanging from a chandelier. No one dared speak above a murmur.

Then my not-so-proud father—rose to his feet. I could feel the weight of his gaze like a branding iron on my skin. For a moment, I worried he might try to salvage Rosa’s dignity, make ...

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