“I’m so excited to see where these two go in life,” Garret said, the joy inflected in his voice jarring against my sudden decision, final and terrifying. “Well, and, to crash at their amazing London flat.” Everyone laughed. “And, Ani, when it’s time for a new little Harrison, at least we know Luke is no stranger to that three A.M. thirst”—more laughter and bile bubbled in my throat. I cleared it out and raised my glass with Garret and everyone else. “To being better together, than you are alone.”

“To being better together, than you are alone.” My voice was a part of this chorus too. Glasses clinked, the sound a delicate bell—no! no! no! I drained my champagne, all of it, even the angry curdles at the top.

Luke leaned in and kissed me. “You make me so happy, babe.” I held on to my smile with all my might.

Someone tapped Luke on the shoulder, and he turned, began to chat about the honeymoon. I put my hand on his knee—funny, that would be the last time I could ever touch him like that—said, “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

I waded through the room, the perky pleasantries. “Hello, hello, hi.” “You look stunning!” “Thank you!” “Congratulations!” “Thank you!” “Hi, hello, hi.” “Lovely to see you.” Lovely. When did I start saying that terrible word?

The wedding coordinator had pointed out the one-stall bathroom in the back of Topper’s, the restaurant charging us thirty thousand dollars for the rehearsal dinner. “Usually just for staff,” she’d said. “But you and Luke should feel free to use it tonight if you need some privacy.” She’d winked, and I’d stared at her, horrified.

I locked the door behind me. There was no overhead light, just a white porcelain lamp on the counter, the light fuzzing through the shade golden and dreamy, like I was playing a part in an old movie. I lowered the toilet seat, carefully and quietly as a bench in church. I sat, the skirt of my size zero Milly dress collecting the DNA of all the brides who had sat here before me. I’d never be thin enough to wear it again.

My Bottega Veneta clutch made a smacky, kissy noise as I snapped it open. I dug around until I found the green seashell, ribbed and faded between my fingers.

It was some time before there was a knock on the door. I sighed and stood—Showtime, ready?—cracking it open just wide enough to reveal the eyes, nose, and lips of Nell. It was an entirely different light out there.

She smiled, and the corners of her mouth disappeared from the narrow frame. “Whatcha doing?”

I didn’t say anything. Nell reached through the door and thumbed away a black tear.

“What was that, anyway?” she said. “You’re the sweetest girl Garret’s ever met? Has anyone here ever met you?”

I laughed. One of those horrible cry-laughs that juggles all the phlegm in your chest.

“What do you want to do?” Nell asked.

She listened patiently while I told her, then whistled low. “What a shit show this is going to be.”

Nantucket suffers from a temperature inversion, which occurs when cold air is trapped under hot. This is what creates the ever-present fog, the Gray Lady, that cloaks the island, even on a clear day when there’s not a cloud in the sky.

Of course, you realize it’s a clear day only once the ferry barrels through the thick of it. You look forward and see the blue hanging over the land, crisp and bright as a screen saver on a projection screen, then glance over your shoulder and there’s only a wall of groggy mist. It was all behind me when Nell appeared at my side and pushed a cold beer into my hands.

“I think the car rental place is within walking distance from the ferry,” she said.

Beer gurgled in the bottle’s neck. “It is.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s right there.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to fly?”

“I couldn’t stand to be in an airplane right now,” I said.

Nell pressed her back against the ship’s rail. “So when are you going to ask?”

I shielded my eyes with my hand and studied her. “Ask what?”

“If you can move in, while you get back on your feet.” She smiled. Out of the gray, her teeth were so bright they seemed the closest thing to invisible. “It’s like 2007, redux. Only this time we won’t have rats.”

I warmed my shoulder against hers. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

Nell had done what I asked her to do at the entrance to the bathroom, and, a few minutes later, Luke had nudged the door open with the toe of his Prada loafer. “Ani? You okay? I can’t find Kimberly and the music on the slide show isn’t—”

Everything on his face went dark and different when he saw the seashell pinched between my fingers. I didn’t even wait for him to lock us in before I asked, “What did you do with that picture of Arthur and his dad?”

Luke turned and shut the door behind him, slowly, like he would do anything to delay what was going to happen next. “I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.”

“Luke, tell me now or I’m going to—”

“Okay.” He pushed his hands at me. “Okay.”

“John bought coke while he was in New York that weekend. I told him it was stupid. You know how I feel about that stuff.” Luke gave me a meaningful look, like his hard line on drugs would somehow absolve him of whatever he had done.

“His fiancée wanted it too. When we got back to the apartment, he needed a picture to do it on. I don’t know how that stuff works, but he said they always do it on a mirror or a picture frame.”

“And you gave him the picture of Arthur and his dad?”

“I didn’t want to give him a picture of us!” Luke said, like he’d had only two choices, like we didn’t have a million pictures all over the apartment of our annoyingly photogenic friends.

“What happened to it?”

“Someone knocked it over.” Luke mimed the crime, flicking his hand in the air. “It broke. I threw it away.”

I searched his face for any sign of remorse. “Even the picture?”

“If you saw the picture without that stupid frame you would have known something had happened. You’re . . . you’re so sensitive about that kind of stuff. You get so mad.” Luke brought his hands to his chest, like he needed protection from me. “I just thought it was better. And better for you. To move on. Why would you want to hold on to something like that anyway?” He shuddered. “It’s creepy, Ani.”

I cupped the seashell in my lap, gingerly as you would an injured baby bird. “I can’t believe you.”

Luke got on his knees in front of me, just like he did the day he proposed, the day I was so sure was the happiest of my life. I pulled back when he tried to brush away the mascara tracks on my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ani”—even with this, he managed to make himself sound like the victim, St. Luke who has to put up with me, with my spins, my kookiness, my morbid neurosis—“but please. Let’s not let this ruin the night.”

Outside, one of Luke’s friends shouted at another friend that he was a fucking pussy. I held on to the shell as if it was a stress ball. Squeezed so hard I heard the crack in its armor. “This isn’t what’s going to ruin the night.” I let him wipe away a tear, the last time he’d ever touch me. Then I told him what would.

CHAPTER 17

Oh, it was a mess. The Harrisons, my parents, Nell, Luke, all knotted into a clot of varying alliances, fighting for individual best interests. Ultimately it was decided that Nell would call a cab, take me back to the Harrison estate, where I would gather my things before the rest of the family returned home, and we would get a hotel room, leave first thing in the morning. Mrs. Harrison’s face was an odd mix of anger and sympathy as she discussed these arrangements with me, her tone very matter-of-fact, much to her credit.