They should be near the front.”

“Let me talk to the coordinator after the ceremony,” Ethan said, his voice hushed and reassuring.

“We can fix it before dinner, I promise.”

A server walked past us carrying a silver tray loaded with empty crystal champagne flutes, the glass clinking softly.

“Who authorized the change?” I asked.

Ethan did not answer.

His eyes followed the server until the man disappeared beneath the pavilion.

I knew that silence.