inutes later, Alexander Calvert

in investing in quality. His white shirt was crisp, his tie perfectly knotted. His dark hair was styled in that

ting the kind of quiet confidence that came from

ride down the aisle with absolute confidence,

o be here all along. Like this was

ard me and felt someth

exander. My

s seven years old, gap-toothed an

calculus and never made me feel

for every birthday, eve

t milk, that I read the last chapter of books first, that I wa

night that he'd been in lov

my face with those sharp gray eyes that saw everything.

oked up at him-he was a few inches taller than Miles, I noticed randomly, my heels

ure. Just genuine concern for me, f

more sure of an

talking, or the humiliation, or the sudden clarity that

e first time he left me at the altar for a paper cut. This was the

small smile tugging at

at the altar, looking completely bewildered. "Shall we begin?"

been rehearsing them all along, as

arents' faces as the officiant

od best friend instead of the man I