He was defending me.

Tiffany attempted another laugh, but it came out thin and frightened.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “He’s a child.”

A woman seated at one of the back tables stood. She was older, silver-haired, with a voice sharp enough to cut through the room.

“No,” she said. “He’s the only decent person in this room.”

That was when the applause began.

Part 3

It started with a single clap.

Then another followed.

Then nearly half the room got to its feet.

Not the head table. Not my mother. Not Tiffany. But enough people stood that the sound filled the reception hall and buried every cruel thing that had been said to me.

Ethan looked frightened by the noise.

I climbed onto the stage and pulled him into my arms. He dropped the microphone and pressed his face into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” I said, holding him closer. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The applause faded when Caleb picked up the microphone.

For one moment, I thought he might protect his bride. I thought he might try to smooth it all over, call it a misunderstanding, and ask everyone to keep celebrating.

Instead, he turned toward Tiffany.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked quietly.