“Same as the rehearsal,” I said.

Ryan looked at her, then at me.

“Slower it is.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

The courtyard grass was damp in the shade of the hedge.

Two short rows of chairs now, not the six long ones on the seating chart I had drawn in June.

Chloe went ahead of me down the gravel with the hem in one hand and her phone in the other.

“You’re four minutes early,” she said.