The music changed. She looked from her feet to the waterfall, the officiant, then to Oren with his hands clasped in front of him. His tawny hair was left long, brushed smooth and silky like a shampoo commercial. His tuxedo impeccable, as if he'd taken it off a rack and slid into it without having to unfasten a button.

Her eyes moved from him to Jorick, and stopped. His hair fell down his back in a waterfall of darkness, and the tuxedo looked made for him. The bowtie at his ...