Back from delivering ice, Todd kissed his aunt on the cheek. “Ah, you don’t like my hair?” As Todd fixed his gaze on her, Lara could see the old woman straightening herself.

The aunt pulled at a lock, inspecting it. His hair was shiny and brown. Lara noticed a few gray hairs shimmering under the light like tinsel. Had Todd been a vain man, he’d have dyed it before the ceremony. There was an audible exhale from the woman as she smoothed an errant strand, seemingly agreeing that Todd’s hair suited him. “Well…”

Todd wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful. There was a tragic sexiness to him, like a burgeoning James Dean, that was so intoxicating to women—all women. From the looks of it, even the ones who were related to him.

“I have to go soon.” Lara sank onto the sofa next to him. These days he wore long-sleeved T-shirts because, even though he was nearly twenty-nine, he still cared that his mother hated the sight of the rococo-scrolled tattoos that now decorated both of his forearms.

After an hour, Lara began to rise from the sofa. “I’ll walk you out,” said Todd.

“Let her go, Todd,” another pair of aunts teased. “It’s almost midnight. Bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day.” The overhead fans in the screen porch were rhythmically cycling above them, sending out waves of cool air that made Lara shiver.

“I’ll make sure to send her out by eleven fifty-nine then.” He pushed through the door. “How many times has your mother called you?”

“Twice in the last ten minutes.” Lara slow-walked across the yard toward her Jeep. She looked up at the sky and thought that she should remember to look up more often—the stars seemed low, like they were glowing brighter for her.

“Before you go, I have something to show you.”

Lara spun to see that Todd had begun to walk backward, leading her toward his stepfather’s garage. That he never looked down as he walked and never doubted the sureness of his steps fascinated her. She’d have stumbled over an uneven paver or tree root, spraining an ankle, but not Todd. He was one of the most confident men she’d ever known, comfortable in his own skin to a fault, and it made him generous to others. He had nothing to prove.

“I thought I’d have this finished before the wedding, but I didn’t get it done fast enough.” He opened the door and turned on the light that hummed from a faulty bulb. In front of her was a pickup truck up on a lift, angled like it was taking off in flight. The truck was painted with a smooth dull-gray primer, as though it had been sculpted out of clay. She gasped.