Gabriel
There was something to be said for understated and elegant, Rachel thought as she once more took survey of the décor. She approved, as the quiet, tastefulness suited the bride and groom very well, to her mind. Of course, Rachel had chosen lavish and over-the-top for her own, but it was to make a statement—a very loud one. Naturally, she knew it was also the utmost in style and glamor.
As she allowed her straightened spine to relax ever-so-slightly against the back of her chair, she felt a pang, and was not sure if it was nostalgia or regret, or perhaps both, for the fact that these days were long over for her. Though barely three-and-twenty, she had three children, whom she usually adored and always loved, but it sometimes gave her an uncomfortable flair of panic as she realized how settled her life was, how seemingly secure. There was still that struggle to be grateful for that, to find happiness in that when she'd known so little of complacency, security, and perhaps even happiness before.
What Rachel needed was a brisk shake. Life moved, and one, hopefully, with it. Reminiscing and nostalgia and regrets and all these pangs were silly. Silly, which she was not. With her iron will, Rachel brought her attention to Gabriel, where she thought it had been before her mental wanderings.
"I'm sorry, what was that you said?"
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