“Look, I obviously knew you were engaged when I came back here. But I hoped Grant would be this asshole or something. And you know what? I like Grant. He’s a cool guy. And I saw immediately that you loved him. That you were happy. It was one of the hardest days of my life when I saw you at the pier—”

“Leo—”

“It was the hardest day because I got to see you again, and I couldn’t even hug you. Not fully. Not when you were standing there, with all your same Joey-ness, that I like just as much as when we were kids. I really want to tell you, I like the person you’ve become, Jones. I like her so much.”

“I like the person you’ve become too,” Joey whispered. “But—”

“But that day I saw you again at the pier was also the hardest day of my life because that’s the day I had to let you go again. That’s the day I really lost hope. Until now. Until today—”

“Leo—”

“No, Jonesey. I saw the painting. You painted my face. Not Grant’s. Mine. It’s like the painting you started on Corfu.”

“Yes, but—”

“You can’t say a but about that painting. You captured me. That painting says love, Jonesey. You painted me and not him. Period. You once told me—”

This was the tidal wave. Joey steeled herself for it.

“You once told me you could only paint the face of the man you loved. So this is my plea, Jonesey. You and Arthur, you’re all that are important to me in the world. The logistics may seem insane, but I know we can figure them out. Our life together will be so happy, if you just give us a chance. Please don’t marry Grant, Jonesey. You can still back out. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.”

Leo put his hands to his knees and bent his head, panting.

“I don’t know what to say.” Joey crunched down on her lip, feeling tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. She just had to finish this with him before the dam broke. “You have to know something.”

Leo lifted his head. “Yeah?”

Slowly, Joey held up her left hand. The hand with her new wedding band. She studied the swirls on the gray marble floor. “I’m already married.”

Leo grabbed her hand. He twisted her ring. “How is that possible?”

“The wedding started forty-five minutes ago. It just ended.”

“But weddings never start on time!” Leo’s face shaded with the beginnings of panic. “Lily only told me, like, an hour and a half ago that I needed to go see your painting. But I figured weddings are always at least an hour late.”

“Jewish weddings start on time,” she said quietly. “Jewish weddings always start on time.”