“Anything feels wrong, you call me immediately.”

“It’s just a few hours,” I assured him.

Though my stomach was turnurning with anxiety that had nothing to do with the pregnancy, Marcus helped me out of the car, his hand steady on my elbow. I waddled toward the garden where I could already see white tents and balloon arrangements. Staff members bustled around with trays and decorations. Patricia had clearly spared no expense.

My father appeared from the house looking uncomfortable in a polo shirt and khakis. Robert Mitchell was a tall man who’d spent his life in suits. Casual were seemed to pain him physically.

Lauren, he greeted, barely glancing at my enormous belly. Hannah is running late. You’ll need to wait by the side entrance.

Wait. I shifted my weight, feeling a sharp twinge in my lower back.

Dad, can I just sit down somewhere inside? My back is killing me.

Your mother wants everyone to arrive together, he said, already walking away. Just wait there.