Graham laughed.
Bad decision.
Marissa spun toward him.
“You knew?”
“Mari, there may be more than…”
“Finish that sentence and there will be no wedding.”
Henry burst out laughing.
I finally felt my guard loosen.
Her birthmark was right there.
And for once, it wasn’t the first thing anyone needed to notice.
“Where do you want the vanity?” Henry asked.
Marissa considered it.
“Our apartment.”
So that evening, we loaded the vanity into Henry’s SUV and drove it to Marissa and Graham’s apartment.
Then all four of us wrestled it upstairs.
Halfway through the doorway, Marissa snapped, “Dad, rotate it before you destroy the wall.”
Henry froze.
So did Marissa.
She usually called him Henry.
Neither acknowledged it.
Henry simply smiled and rotated the vanity.
Later, as we were leaving, I looked back.
Marissa sat in front of the mirror removing an earring.
Graham stood behind her brushing his teeth.
He glanced toward her reflection.
Marissa caught him.
“Stop staring at me, weirdo.”
Graham spoke around his toothbrush.
“I’m brushing my teeth.”
“Suspiciously.”
He flicked a drop of water at her.
Marissa yelped.
For one second, I almost stepped back inside.
Old habit.
Watch.
Protect.
Check.
Instead, I gently pulled the door closed.
And left my daughter to tell me when she needed me.
