For three long seconds, neither of us said a word.

Clare set her bouquet of white freesia on the vanity table and took three quick steps across the patterned rug.

She threw her arms around my neck, pressing her pearl-beaded shoulder against the collar of my navy dress.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close while being careful not to step on the silk train spread across the carpet.

“You came,” she whispered against my neck.