“It’s all right,” I told him. “You two take your picture.”
I turned toward the steps. That should have ended it.
Instead, Brittany caught my arm. “Then please move out of the frame.”
Her fingers tightened above my elbow, and before I understood what she was doing, she pulled me sideways. My foot found the edge of the platform. Then nothing — my balance was gone. The boards struck my hip first, then my arm. Someone gasped. The photographer dropped his camera from his face. The music stopped.
Noah reached me before anyone else moved. He dropped to his knees beside me. “Mom? Are you hurt?”
“My arm hurts,” I admitted. “My pride more.”
Then my son looked up at his bride, and I had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at her in that moment. “What did you just do?”