Lauren looked at Emma. "What do you want me to do tonight?"
Emma wiped her nose on the starred cuff, then made a face at herself. "Don't leave like you did a crime. And don't stay like you're tucking me in. I want Dad to sit here. I want to hear it one more time with him, just him, after you and Grandma and Aunt Naomi go. Not because I hate you. Because the first part is mine and his. The part about cold feet. You can have the Lauren part. You already heard it."
It was a more sophisticated division than any of the adults had offered. Naomi let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I'll drive Helen," she said. "Lauren, walk me out. David, eat something that is not a wedding canapé. Emma, you were brave and you were also eleven, and both of those get to exist."
At the door Lauren paused. David followed her onto the porch. The light was still out. He had meant to fix it before the wedding, a symbolic competence, and had forgotten. They stood in the dimness with the maple dropping another leaf onto the railing.
"I would have said the vows," he said. "If she hadn't come up the aisle. I would have said them and felt honest enough. That's what scares me. I had turned your name and Claire's name into separate rooms."