“I think so,” Joe said, trying to keep his eyes on the road despite his urge to face her. “At this point, even if I wanted to leave Vegas, I couldn’t. I make too much there to start over somewhere else.”

He noticed Vicki turn her head back to the window just then, her expression pensive. Joe tried to change the subject quickly, before her mood soured.

“I dated an interior designer a few years ago,” he offered in an upbeat voice. “About six years ago, I think. She helped people redecorate their houses before they put them on the market—a stager. She had great taste. I only wish I had asked her to take me furniture shopping before I broke up with her.”

Vicki flashed him a dirty look, but Joe could see that she was suppressing a smile.

They got out of the car and found themselves on the white-gravel parking lot, in between the SUV that had been driving in front of them and a small red sports car with the top down and a license plate that read “D.C. LAW.” “Shall we?” Joe asked, with a shrug.

“Do we have a choice?” Vicki responded, walking to his side as they joined the other last-minute guests on a fast pilgrimage to the country club’s lawn, where they could see a small altar decorated with purplish-blue hydrangea and striking white calla lilies. As they walked side by side toward the entrance of the country club green, the gap between them shrunk, and their hands accidentally bumped as Vicki sunk into the grass.

A young, tall, acne-scarred boy greeted them as they approached the edge of the ceremony space, where guests were milling about the rows of plastic white chairs arranged like pews.

“Are you here for the bride or groom?” the boy asked.

“We’re here for the bride,” Joe said, answering for Vicki, who seemed relieved not to have to speak.

“Uncle Joe?” the boy asked, looking closer.

Joe leaned forward, squinting at the boy.

The boy smiled. “It’s me—Derek. I’m Sandra’s son. David’s brother. It’s great to see you, Uncle Joe. I’m surprised I recognized you. I think I was twelve the last time I saw you.”

“You’re probably right,” Joe said, remembering his cousin Sandra’s two scrawny kids, whom he’d visited in Philadelphia years ago during a restaurant-industry convention. “You look great, guy. All grown up.”

“I graduate this year,” Derek said, beaming. “I’m applying early decision to Cornell.”

Joe almost told the boy that his girlfriend, Sarah, also went to Cornell, but caught himself, remembering Vicki at his side.

Vicki turned to look behind them and bumped Joe’s shoulder with her own, hinting to him that there was a line of people waiting to be greeted. “We should probably find a seat,” Vicki said, pulling Joe’s arm by the edge of his brown suit sleeve. Joe looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled with his eyes closed. “Derek,” he said proudly, “she’s right. We should head in, but we’ll catch up at the reception, okay?”