At the entrance, I found the seating chart on an easel. I scanned the list for my name. Nothing. I looked again, my heart sinking a little further with each pass. It wasn’t there.

Assuming an oversight, I found a wedding planner. “Hi,” I said gently. “I don’t see my name on the chart. Adam Reynolds.” Her expression shifted from exhausted to awkward. “Oh, you’re Nate’s brother, right? Yeah, so… there were some last-minute shifts. I think you’re supposed to be over by the west wall. There are a few open seats near the photo booth.”