Behind me, people started whispering.
Someone said, “What is she wearing?”
Someone else laughed nervously.
I looked at Claire’s mother.
She looked emotional.
But not shocked enough.
Then I looked at my mother.
She looked stunned.
That confused me more.
For a moment, embarrassment hit before anything else.
I hate admitting that.
This was our wedding.
There were photographers standing six feet away.
Our relatives were watching.
People had their phones out.
We had spent months planning every detail, and Claire had suddenly decided to walk down the aisle looking like she’d raided an elderly man’s closet.
And she hadn’t told me.
As she came closer, I tried to catch her eye.
She kept smiling.
When she finally reached me, she handed her bouquet to Jenna.
Then I leaned toward her and whispered, “Claire, what is this?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she reached across with her left hand and slowly folded back the oversized cuff of the jacket.
