“Do you think I’m tall enough now, Ate? Or should I wear those shoes with the thick soles so I look like a proper guard for the rings?”

Noah stood on a footstool in the middle of the Aldridge library, peering into a floor-length mirror. He was swamped in a miniature tuxedo, the silk lapels catching the morning light. He wasn’t the frail boy who had spent years tethered to an oxygen tank and hospital beds; his cheeks were flushed with health, and his eyes danced with a vibrant, restless energy.

Celeste sat on the edge of the desk, watching him with a lump in her throat. “You look perfect,...