I pictured him pulling me aside sometime during the reception and saying, “You did good, Danny.”
Nobody called me that anymore.
Dad had called me Danny my entire life.
Even when I turned 30.
Even when I told him I was too old for it.
The bridesmaids started walking down the aisle.
Everything looked completely normal.
Then the music changed.
Everyone stood.
I looked toward the back.
And for a few seconds, I honestly thought there had been some kind of mistake.
Claire was standing there holding her bouquet.
Her hair was pinned up. Her makeup was done. She was smiling.
But instead of a wedding dress, she was wearing an enormous black suit.
An old one.
The jacket was so large that the shoulders extended past her actual shoulders.
The sleeves covered part of her hands.
The pants were loose and slightly bunched at the bottom.
She was even wearing a dark tie.
