I was wearing ivory.
I had known what I was doing.
I walked back out to the reception.
Table 3 was the immediate family table.
My husband’s parents, his grandparents on his mother’s side, his aunt and uncle who flew in from Phoenix, his cousin who was also a groomsman, and a woman I will call my husband’s colleague because that was the word my mother-in-law used for her when I had asked once, 6 months earlier, why she kept appearing in the background of his firm’s Instagram posts.
“She’s just his colleague,” my mother-in-law had said. “They work closely together. It’s sweet, really, how dedicated she is.”
The colleague was seated in what would have been my chair.
She was in a sage green dress, the color coordinated, the color that had been assigned.
And she was laughing at something my father-in-law said, and her hand was resting on the back of the chair that had my husband’s name card next to it.
Not touching it, but very close.
The way you rest your hand near something you already think of as yours.
I watched this for about 10 seconds from across the room.
Then I went and found my brother-in-law.
He was near the bar with his new wife and 2 of his friends.
When he saw my face, he excused himself immediately.
He always had good instincts and walked over to me.
I told him quietly what had happened.
Not emotionally.
I was a lawyer. I knew how to present facts.
His face moved through 4 distinct expressions in about 8 seconds.
He said, “I’m going to fix this right now.”
