Ryder and I stood on the balcony staring at the evening stars. His face still had bruises, and my ankle was still bruised that I needed a walking stick to get around. The silence between us was heavy with everything we couldn't say inside that suffocating dining room.

"I can't do it," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't sit there and pretend to be happy about their wedding when it's destroying us."

I leaned against the marble railing, careful not to put too much weight on my bad ankle. "It's not about us, Ryder. It's about them."

"Isn't it?" He turned to face me, and...