“It’s when you find that perfect fit that you feel your life click into place.” Her eyes trail up to Sondra, then she looks past Sondra’s shoulder, past Preston, right at me. It was only a second, but it was there.

“When you met Preston, we knew he was your perfect fit. He slipped over you like a second skin, and together, your lives clicked into place. I’m so happy to have witnessed your love grow into what you’ve now promised each other will be forever.”

Women in the crowd wipe their tears, along with Sondra, and I swallow down the beach ball in my damn throat.

“Take care of her, Preston. Be her person, and in return she will love you fiercely, because that’s how she loves. I, no, we”—she gestures to Dottie and Keith—“are so happy to welcome you into our family. Congratulations, you two.”

Sondra stands and wraps her arms around Winter. They hug while the crowd claps and cheers, then Winter walks behind Sondra and Preston’s seats to hand me the microphone.

I stand, and without thought, slide my arm around her waist like we’re magnets.

“That was beautiful, Winter,” I whisper into her ear, then kiss her cheek before taking the microphone, and she smiles meekly, then sits.

Trying my hardest, I peel my eyes off Winter to look out at the now quiet crowd. Crowds I have no problem with; charming people is kind of my thing. It’s love I don’t know dick about. And Winter just put experiencing it so elegantly, I feel about the size of an ant in her presence.

I clear my throat and smile. “That’s not the easiest toast to follow…” The crowd chuckles. “Thank you for that, Winter.”

I turn and look at Preston. His shit-eating grin telling me he’s about to laugh at how unnatural this is for me.

“The first night Preston and Sondra met, he called me. I remember because it was one in the morning in LA, which meant it was four in the morning in New York, where I lived. I hadn’t heard that kind of excitement from him since we were eleven and he got his first pair of roller blades.” My shoulders bob with a laugh and the crowd quietly joins me. “He told me he met a woman at a club and he fell in love. That was it. He spent three hours trying to get to know her over the deafening beats from the speakers, and that was enough to convince him he was in love with her. Naturally, I assumed he was drunk…” Another chuckle from the crowd.

“In the coming months, he would tell me he hung out with her again and again. The more time they spent together, the more deeply he fell. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop because, honestly, who the hell meets the woman they’re meant to marry at a nightclub? Uh…” I scratch the scruff over my jaw. “The answer to that question is Preston. Preston does, because he did.”