The piano melody seemed to come from very far away.

The only thing I could hear clearly was the click of my own heels against the stone floor, each step ringing out in the terrible attentive silence of a room full of people who had just watched a father disown his daughter at the altar.

I lifted my chin.

I would not let them see me cry, though the tears were burning, because I had learned, being that man’s daughter, how to carry a humiliation across a room with my head up.

It was one of the few things he had actually taught me.

Halfway to the altar, Lucas took a few quick steps down toward me, unable to bear watching me do it alone — and I gave my head the smallest shake, and he stopped.