After they left, I stayed home with my other three children.

We piled onto the couch under a blanket and put on their favorite cartoon, and I tried to focus on them — on the small warm weight of them against my sides, the sound of their laughter — and not to imagine what was happening across town.

Not to picture Luca standing at an altar.

Not to picture Chloe in a wedding dress walking toward him.

I was, I thought, simply trying to survive the hours, to get through the afternoon of my husband’s wedding to my sister without falling apart in front of my children.