Halfway down, Rex slowed again. His head turned sharply toward the far corner of the church, where the wedding gifts sat stacked on a small table. Wrapped boxes. Paper. Ribbon. He paused, nostrils flaring, body tightening as if pulled off-course.
Lucy felt it immediately. She adjusted her angle, guiding him forward without stopping. Rex allowed it—but his attention lingered, a final glance toward the table before he continued on. A murmur rippled through the front rows.