“I married your brother.” He pauses. “But he’d tell you that he married me.” Happiness is submerged beneath a swell of despair. “I wasn’t there.” I missed it. “No, you were there,” Farrow says, getting choked up. He clears his throat, looks to the left, then back at me. “You were in my grooms’ party. You were in the procession walking ahead of me.” I’m crying. “I don’t remember.”
