It doesn’t make sense. Wren’s great with kids. I’ve seen her with Callie, never blaming my sister for mistakes she might’ve made, and organizing insane activities to make her happy. So why would she be so tense while watching her own family?

They certainly didn’t seem close. Aqidah had to remind her children of Wren’s name.

Nothing about it makes sense.

I’m about to question her about it again when the sound of metal clinking against glass comes from the center of the dance floor, where Aqidah and Jerome, her husband, are standing. Wren’s cousin has long dark hair, light-brown skin, and is wearing a long, sparkly red dress. Her husband’s blond hair contrasts with hers, while his loving smile mirrors the one she’s giving him.

The room hushes before the clinking stops.

“First of all, we want to say thank you to everyone who came here to celebrate our love today,” Aqidah says while looking around the crowd. “We’re so grateful to have all of you in our lives.”

I throw a side glance at Wren, who’s standing even stiffer than before.

“The past ten years haven’t always been easy,” she continues, turning to her husband, “with the death of my dad and your career reorientation and the arrival of our three little monsters.” She waves at her sons and daughter who are now sitting cross-legged in front of them. “But through it all, we’ve never left each other’s side, and I can say without a doubt that this is how it’s always going to be. Through thick and thin, I know you’ll always be with me, ready to support me and care for me, and that’s the most beautiful gift you could’ve given me.”

Wren looks behind her, at the back of the room. Following her gaze, the only thing I find there is the emergency exit. When she returns her attention to the scene going on in front of us, she’s blinking fast.

Somehow, I doubt it’s because she’s touched by Aqidah’s speech.

Jerome delivers a similar message, returning Aqidah’s compliments tenfold, and then they kiss and the crowd erupts in cheers.

While clapping, I feel a hand on my bicep.

“Come on,” Wren says. “I’m ready to go.”

“You sure?” We stayed long enough for it not to be considered impolite if we left, but already, the music is turning up, an obviously great night ahead.

She nods.

“All right,” I say as I put a hand on her lower back and lead her to the coat check, where we bundle up before going back into the cold.

The moment we get out, Wren takes in a deep breath before exhaling loudly. Her walk to my car is hurried.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.”