Sophie stood beside me.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered.

Later, while the wedding planner was checking place cards, Kristen suggested that Tom should be seated closer to the bride.

Emma overheard.

“His seat is fine.”

Kristen smiled.

“I was only trying to help.”

A while later, I noticed Kristen speaking with the DJ.

She was holding a folded piece of paper.

Sophie noticed too.

“What is that?”

I already knew.

A toast.

Kristen had apparently prepared a speech for a bride she had met once.

“Mom.”

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“Your face has.”

By dinner, Sophie’s frustration was obvious from across the ballroom.

I found her near the bar.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

She looked at me.

“I’m thinking Emma hasn’t eaten half her dinner because she keeps dealing with Dad’s wife.”

“Emma can speak for herself.”

Sophie stared at me.

“Can she?”

That annoyed me.

“Of course she can.”

Sophie didn’t argue.

She simply looked toward the head table.

Emma was smiling at something Tom had said.

Calm.

Polite.

Gracious.

Just like she had been at every family gathering for years.

Every birthday.

Every graduation.

Every Christmas.

Every event after the divorce.

I had always been proud of her for that.

Emma was mature.

Easygoing.

Thoughtful.

Before every family gathering, she sent little messages.

“Dinner starts at six, Mom.”

“Dad will be there too.”

“Sophie, please don’t start anything.”

“Dad, Uncle Daniel is coming. Please be nice.”

I had always assumed that was simply Emma’s personality.

At twenty-five, she could walk into a room containing both divorced parents and somehow keep everyone calm.

What I had never asked myself was why she had become so good at it.

The speeches began after dinner.

Michael’s father spoke.

Then the best man.

Then Sophie.

I spent her entire toast waiting for something to go wrong.