We drove up to a place called Tregaron, in Cleveland Heights. It’s a huge neo-Georgian mansion on the Washington International School campus, available for rentals in the summer months. We got a tour from their tightly wound community relations director, Mimi Bento.

“And this is the Terrace Room,” she said, walking us in from the grand foyer.

It was a parquet-floored hall with brass chandeliers, open to a canopied patio at the back. Beyond that were the pristine gardens and a view of the Klingle Valley. Not too shabby. Beautiful, actually. And classy.

Ms. Bento checked her leather folio. “It’s available August eleventh, twenty-fifth, or… next year, of course. How many guests were you thinking?”

Bree and I looked at each other. It seemed weird that we hadn’t thought about this in much detail, but we hadn’t. We wanted to keep it somewhat small, I guess. It was all kind of new for us.

“We’re not sure yet,” Bree said, and the corners of the woman’s mouth turned down almost imperceptibly. “But we definitely want the ceremony and reception in the same place. We’d like to keep everything relatively simple.”

“Of course,” she said. You could just see the dollar signs getting smaller in her eyes. “Well, why don’t you look around a little more, and I’ll be in the office if you have any questions.”

Once she was gone, we walked outside to see the terrace. It was a perfect spring day, and easy to imagine a wedding happening here.

“Any questions?” Bree said.

“Yes.” I took her hand and pulled her in. “Is this where we’d have our first dance?”

We started swaying right there while I hummed a few bars of Gershwin in her ear. No, no, they can’t take that away from me.…

“You know what?” Bree said suddenly. “This place is absolutely gorgeous. I love it.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said.

“Except I think we should skip it.”

I stopped dancing and looked at her.

“I don’t need to spend the next few months thinking about what color the invitations are going to be or who’s going to sit next to who,” she said. “That’s someone else’s wedding, not mine. Not ours. I just want to be married to you. Like now.”

“Now?” I said. “Like — now?”

She laughed and reached up to kiss me. “Soon anyway. After Damon comes home from school. What do you think?”

I didn’t have to think. All I needed out of this wedding was for it to be exactly what Bree wanted — fancy mansion or Washington courthouse, I didn’t care. As long as she was there.

“After Damon comes home, then,” I said, and sealed the deal with another kiss. “Next question: do you think we can sneak out the back, or do we have to tell Mimi?”

Chapter 109