Tara knew something was off the moment she stepped into the ballroom.
It wasn't the décor which was very Norah. Soft gold lights, cascading white florals, a string quartet playing something romantic and slightly dramatic. It wasn't the crowd either. Stanford friends, pack families, familiar faces blending with new ones.
It was the feeling. Like the air had thickened.
Dylan's hand rested at the small of her back, steady and possessive. The diamond on her finger caught the light every time she moved. It had been three months since he proposed.
Three months since she said yes.
She told herself she'd said yes because she loved him. Because it made sense.
Because this was always the plan.
"Tara!" Norah rushed toward her, glowing in a champagne-colored dress, James right behind her looking equally besotted.
"You look unreal." Norah breathed, hugging her carefully.
"You look like you planned this wedding before you turned ten." Tara teased.
"Correct."
