I didn’t think. I walked straight to the table, reached down, and calmly took it back. No one stopped me. No one even noticed until I turned for the door. “Hey, Adam, where are you going?” a groomsman called out. I didn’t pause. I just looked over my shoulder, held the envelope up, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of the frame forever.”

“Adam, wait.”

Nate’s voice stopped me at the exit. I stood with my hand on the polished brass handle, the other gripping the envelope like an anchor. “Come on, man,” he said, closer now. “Don’t do this. It’s not that deep.” I turned slowly. He stood there in his designer tux, champagne in hand, looking utterly bewildered, as if I were the one creating a problem. “Not that deep,” I repeated quietly. “Yeah, it’s just the seating, bro,” he said, lowering his voice. “Brianna’s family flew in from, like, Portugal. We had to make room.” A short, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “So, I get relegated to a folding chair and hope no one asks if I’m the DJ.” “Dude, don’t be dramatic. Are you

seriously going to make this about you?”