Because he was my husband now, and the word husband still felt new and sweet in my mind. Because we had just promised each other forever. Because the ceremony had been perfect and his tears had looked real.
“Sure,” I said.
He slid one arm behind my back and another under my legs, positioning me for the dip shot. I felt the air shift as people leaned in to watch. Someone said, “Aww,” like we were a postcard.
The photographer raised the camera.
“One… two… hold it…”
And then his arms loosened.
It was so fast my brain didn’t understand what was happening.
My body tilted past the point of control. My stomach dropped. My hands flew out, grabbing at air, catching nothing.
I saw his face—bright, excited, almost proud.
Then he let go completely.
I fell.
The cold hit like a slap. It stole my breath and turned the world into a roar of water and shock. My dress ballooned around me, dragging me down, heavy with fabric and lace. I kicked and fought through the weight, desperate for the surface, desperate for air.
When I broke through, I gasped so hard my throat burned.
I blinked water from my eyes and heard laughter.
Not nervous laughter.
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