She turned the pages to show me sketches of the entrance and the room where the wedding party would wait.

“Tyler picked some of the furniture,” she said.

“Of course he did.”

“He says chairs matter.”

“They do if you’re sitting in one for four hours.”

We laughed.

I had powdered sugar on my fingers, and for an instant I wanted to remain in that small, pleasant exchange.

Then her phone lit up.