October arrived faster than I expected.
Miami in October was the specific version of the city that I loved most — the humidity finally relenting, the light going gold and particular, the bay a deeper blue than summer. The gardenias in Victor's garden were exactly as he had described — their absolute best.
The wedding was in two weeks.
The guest list was fifty people — small by Romano standards, which Victor had accepted with the specific grace of a man who had been told no several times and had decided that being included at all was sufficient.
The garden at Casa Romano had been my choice for the ceremony. Victor's joy at this had been poorly concealed and entirely genuine.
I was standing in the garden on a Tuesday afternoon doing a final walkthrough with the florist — white flowers,
