Sam guided me back into the little room where we were getting ready.

At 9:45, he pinned my boutonniere while I stood with the weather forecast open on my phone.

The screen showed a clear afternoon, which was one less problem for a day already carrying enough of them.

“Hold still,” Sam said.

“I am holding still.”

“You’re moving your shoulder.”

He pushed the pin through my jacket and stepped back.

“There.”