We did it there, behind the velvet curtain, next to the ivory slip dress on its hanger, while the associate was out front checking the lace veils.

We are going to stop him, Clara, she said, and put the pen in my hand, and I pressed the paper flat against the wood and signed my own name, the real one, in my own real hand, for the first time in what felt like a very long while.

Chapter 15 — The Custodian of Many Things

At one o’clock the next day the silver salad tongs clicked against the porcelain as Jonathan set them down and reached across the linen to pat the back of my hand, his signet ring catching the midday sun.

It was a Tuesday, forty-four days before the ceremony, and we were having lunch on the terrace with his mother.