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Without another word, Ed stormed toward the exit, leaving a trail of cake crumbs behind him. The heavy doors slammed shut, and he was gone.
He escorted me to the women’s restroom, somehow managing to find hair ties and wet towels. While I scrubbed frosting from my face and hair, he stood guard outside the door.
“I won’t ever let anyone treat you like that,” he said quietly when I emerged. “And you know, if Dad were here, he would have done the exact same thing.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it more than I’d ever meant anything. “You did the right thing, Ryan. Despite everything that just happened, you stood up for me when I couldn’t stand up for myself. I’ll never forget what you did for me today. Thank you so much, really.”
But then reality hit me. “I still have to decide if this marriage is worth continuing after it started like this.”
Our family and friends tried their best to keep the mood light, but everyone was talking about what had happened.
Meanwhile, Uncle Joe kept patting Ryan on the back, saying, “Good for you, son.”
He finally showed up the next morning looking absolutely wrecked. His eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He was still wearing the same cake-stained tuxedo.