CHAPTER 5: The Groom’s First Fear

Your son?” Caleb said.
It was the first time all night his voice sounded small.
Charles stopped beside Noah but did not touch him until Noah gave the slightest nod. Only then did he offer a hand.
Noah took it and stood, frosting still clinging to his vest and shirt. The crushed cake stayed behind him on the table edge and marble floor, proof no one could politely rearrange.
Ava saw the resemblance then.
Not in their faces exactly.
In the stillness.
Both men carried anger without letting it spill.
Caleb looked between them as if hoping the room would laugh and turn the moment back into a misunderstanding.
No one laughed.
Charles’s gaze settled on Caleb’s hand, still half-curled from where it had grabbed Noah’s vest.
“You shoved a guest at your own wedding,” Charles said.
Caleb swallowed. “I thought he was staff.”
That answer was worse than silence.
Ava’s face changed.
So did half the room.
Charles tilted his head slightly.
“And that made it acceptable?”
Caleb looked toward his parents’ table for rescue.
His father stared down at his untouched plate.