“No. Camille left because she was tired of Guy’s shit.”

They stopped talking and joined in the applause as the best man speech came to an end with the toast “To shits and giggles!” and the microphone was handed to Charles. A cacophonous scraping of chairs filled the hall as everyone turned back to face the top table.

Charles cleared his throat. “Thank you, Jeremy and Guy, for that comprehensively embarrassing biopic. I am supremely grateful that my wife”—he stopped for the enthusiastic applause and foot stamping that the word wife induced—“was already privy to almost all of those revelations, or she may just have turned and run away.” A ripple of laughter. “I have loved Jenna since I was eleven years old. Puppy love became teenage infatuation became adult love that just wouldn’t quit, no matter how hard I tried to make my heart be quiet.” Nory saw Jenna slip her hand into his. “My heart was lost to Jen from the moment I saw her giving a boy in the year above what for, for running in the corridor on our first day of school. I knew right then that I’d love her forever, even if she never loved me back as anything more than a friend.” Jenna wiped a tear from her eye, and Nory was surprised to catch Ameerah surreptitiously doing the same. “I wish I could go back and tell sixteen-year-old me that one day, Jenna Baxter would do me the honor of being my wife.” He turned to look at Jenna, who was looking back up at him with pure infatuation in her eyes. “I have loved you for so long. Everything that happened before I knew you was merely a prelude to loving you. Everything that has happened since has been the result of my loving you. And I promise that everything in my future will revolve around loving you.”

Charles bent to kiss his new wife, and Nory could tell that they didn’t notice the standing ovation or hear the whoops and shouts; all they could see was each other. And as Nory clapped, she hoped that no one saw her own tears fall—happy tears for friends and hopeful tears that maybe one day someone would feel like that about her.

Later, as they slow danced to George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” (which Nory had always thought was something of an oxymoron), Isaac’s hands were splayed out across her back, holding her close, he kissed her neck and whispered into her ear, “Would it be impertinent to ask if you’d like to come back to my place tonight?”

Nory shivered with delight. “It would be remiss of you not to ask me back to your place tonight,” she replied, and she felt the low rumble of his laughter vibrate through her body.

“Thank you for asking me to be your date.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said.