At our wedding, I watched my husband lift his glass and smile like he owned the room. “This dance,” he announced, “is for the woman I’ve loved for ten years.” My heart surged—until he walked
Carter laughed first. He actually threw his head back and laughed. “Evelyn,” he said, spreading one hand in a gesture of innocent appeasement, still holding Chloe’s waist with the other. “Don’t be so dramatic, darling. It was just a joke.” Chloe tilted her head, her face a mask of faux-sympathy. “Evelyn, please. You know how…