Mark spins her again, then holds her close. He kisses her ear, her jaw, the side of her neck. Joy hums with pleasure. He brings his mouth back to her ear.

“What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t sat at your table?”

I wouldn’t have met Dylan.

Because she wouldn’t have driven cross-country to move in with Mark.

Joy’s face flushes with the heat of embarrassment at the sharp left turn her mind took. It must be the champagne. Alcohol loosens her tongue and lets her mind travel to places she doesn’t want to go. The memories are uncomfortable. They make her question her choices.

“Well?” Mark prods for an answer.

She clears her throat. “I wouldn’t have had as much fun in college. And we wouldn’t be married.”

“I think we would have found each other no matter what. What’s between us, it’s too powerful to ignore.”

She wants to believe so, but there are times she doesn’t feel drawn to him as intensely as she had been once to someone else. Still, she plays along. “Where do you think we would have eventually met?”

“A bar.”

She grimaces. “Boring.”

“Tell me about it. I like how we met.”

“So do I.” And she does. It’s a sweet meet-cute.

He cradles her face. “I love you, Joy.”

“I—”

Thea, Mark’s three-year-old niece—their three-year-old niece—squeals. Toddler legs propel her across the dance floor. Her short fingers grip a dessert plate of precariously stacked cake slices. Her brothers, Tim and Ted, chase her.

Mark swerves aside with enough force to lift Joy off her feet. They narrowly avoid a collision of bride, tulle, cake, and kids. He gives Joy a look and they both burst into laughter.

“That was close,” Mark says.

“It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

Joy’s gaze trails after the kids. Her new sister-in-law, Dara, in a show of supermom reflexes, swipes the plate from Thea before it lands in her mother-in-law Yvonne’s lap. Dara’s husband, Hayden, clamps his hands on the boys’ shoulders and maneuvers them into an about-face. He marches them outside.

The rhythm of the music is fast, but Mark eases them into a gentle sway. He tucks a finger under her chin so that she’s looking into his eyes. He takes a breath as if weighing things in his mind, and his mouth parts. He then shakes his head.

“What is it?” Joy asks, wondering at his swift mood change.

“Nothing. It can wait.” He brushes a kiss on her cheek.

Her brows fold. “Something’s bothering you.”

He stares at her for a long moment, then sighs. “All right. I don’t want to wait to have kids. Let’s start tonight.”

“Tonight?” she asks with a laugh. “You’re drunk, Mark.”