He walked away. Not out of the hotel. Just down the hall. He sat on a bench. I watched him from twenty feet away. He put his face in his hands. He stayed like that for about eight minutes. And I stood against the wall, in my wedding dress, and I watched my new husband process the worst moment of his life because my best friend of fourteen years had decided, for reasons I still do not fully understand, that my most private truth was hers to reveal into a microphone. Then August stood up. He came back to me. He took my hands. He said, "I love you. I need to say some things. But I need to say them after we finish this wedding. Can we go back in?" I said, "August. Your parents just walked out. This wedding is over." He said, "My parents and their feelings are not more important than yours. We're going to cut the cake. We're going to dance. I'm going to hold you. And we're going to handle everything else tomorrow." I said, "Are you sure?" He said, "I am so sure." And we walked back into the ballroom, and August announced to two hundred and forty people that "we just had a moment, thank you for being patient, please go back to enjoying the food," and we cut the cake at 9:22 PM and we danced to our first dance at 9:48 PM, and I will be grateful for what August did that night for the rest of my life.