Hours after the last waltz had melted into nothing, long after the string quartet had bowed their final bow and disappeared with their velvet-lined cases, long after the photographer had slumped into a chair with a triple whiskey and declared himself officially off-duty, the grounds still shimmered with the last embers of magic.
Ethan and Serena had slipped away behind a heavy, wine-colored velvet curtain thirty-five minutes earlier, giggling like teenagers, cheeks flushed crimson, eyes bright with champagne and pure, dizzy joy.
Staff had whisked away the long train of Serena's wedding gown so it wouldn't drag through the corridors.
Guests had waited, sipping the last drops from the very best bottles, trading stories, wiping happy tears, some already swaying on their feet.
When the curtain finally parted again, the room erupted into one last, roaring wave of love.
Serena stepped out first, and the sight stole every remaining breath.
