“You’d better,” she said into his shirt.
“I will.”
He didn’t know if that was true. None of us knew. But I loved him for saying it.
After a while, Sophie sat up and wiped her face with the heel of her hand. She sniffed hard and looked from him to me and back.
“Okay,” she said. “So what’s in the folder? Mom said there was a folder. With a ring on it.”
Mark looked at me.
I nodded.
He took a deep breath.
“I’m going to marry your mother again,” he said. “September twentieth. At the lake. And I need your help picking out her dress, because if I do it, she’ll kill me.”
Sophie stared at him.
Then she burst into laughter. Real laughter, through the tears. She threw her arms around his neck.
“You big sap,” she said. “You big stupid romantic sap.”
