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I try to say no, but nothing comes out.

Trevor.

Dad.

Mum.

TREVOR.

I can’t burst this staged bubble. I can’t break the joy in a dying man’s eyes.

So I nod, just a touch. Just enough.

Holy fuck, how the room erupts.

Applause. Cheers. Mum sobbing. Trevor and Dad hugging.

Trevor is happy. Even though I’m anything but.

Christopher removes the ring from the box.

My hand lies lifeless inside his as he slides the diamond onto my finger.

It fits perfectly.

Of course it does.

Christopher kisses my cheek, then my mouth. Brief. Respectable. Entirely wrong.

And then comes a further eruption. Trevor comes over and embraces me with the force of a man who I’ve granted salvation to. Dad hugs me like he’s proud. For once in my life, I’ve made him proud.

I’m not sure which churns me up the most.

“Wonderful girl,” Trevor says. “You’ve made us all very happy.”

Mum squeals before she grabs me, and examines the diamond. People cram in and surround us, admiring the ring as though its size proves something about devotion.

But all my eyes want to do is search for Bryce.

Through the crowds of people, I spot him.

He’s standing near the exit at the back of the marquee. Everyone else is smiling, but he looks like he’s staring through the gates of Hell.

His professional mask has disappeared and only pain remains.

I shake my head at him, just a fraction, trying to convey the truth.

I didn’t say yes.

I only nodded.

Like that matters, or means anything. I still have the ring on my fucking finger.

Bryce steps backwards.

Wait.

Please.