Then she looked at Tom.
“And you made your own daughter choose between honoring him and having her father at her wedding.”
For one second, I understood what Sophie believed she had done.
She thought she had freed Emma.
Then Emma walked straight toward her.
“Give me the microphone.”
Sophie smiled nervously.
“Emma—”
“Give it to me.”
Sophie handed it over.
Emma turned toward the room.
Then toward her sister.
“I love you.”
Sophie relaxed slightly.
Emma didn’t.
“But never do that to me again.”
The ballroom went silent.
Sophie stared at her.
“I was defending you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“He threatened not to come.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you angry with me?”
Emma tightened her grip on the microphone.
“Because Dad decided what I was allowed to do at my wedding.”
She swallowed.
“And then you decided how I was supposed to fix it.”
Sophie stopped.
“I was trying to help.”
“I know.”
Emma’s voice cracked.
“That’s what everybody keeps saying.”
Sophie’s face fell.
Emma looked around the room.
“You thought you were standing up for me.”
Then she looked back at her sister.
“But you made another decision for me.”
Nobody applauded.
Nobody moved.
Then someone spoke behind Tom.
“Emma.”
Kristen.
She was standing beside her chair.
“I think I need to tell you something.”
Tom turned sharply.
“Kristen. Don’t.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Kristen looked at him.
Then at Emma.
“Your father told me you wanted me involved tonight.”
Emma frowned.
“What?”
“He told me you wanted me in the family photographs.”
Tom said her name again.
“Kristen.”
She continued.
“He said you wanted me helping with the seating arrangements because you were overwhelmed.”
Then she looked down at the folded paper beside her plate.
“And he told me you wanted me to give a toast, but you were afraid to ask because you didn’t want to upset your mother.”
Something cold settled in my stomach.
Emma looked at her father.
Not surprised.
Defeated.
“I told Dad you were welcome to come,” Emma said.
Sophie stared at her.
“You knew she was coming?”
“Three days ago.”
Emma explained.