“Reasonable people.”
“I started wondering if I’d turned something meaningful into something ridiculous.”
“You didn’t.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“Maybe.”
She pulled back. “Maybe?”
“I was embarrassed for about 20 seconds.”
Her face fell slightly.
I squeezed her hand.
“Then I read the label.”
She nodded.
“And I understood.”
I looked through the glass doors toward the reception.
My mother was dancing with Aaron.
Dad should have been there.
Nothing Claire did could change that.
But somehow, the day didn’t feel like it had a hole in it anymore.
It felt like we’d made room for the absence instead of pretending it wasn’t there.
“I spent months thinking about him not being here,” I said.
Claire rested her head against my shoulder. “I know.”
“I never told you how much.”
“You didn’t have to.”
That was Claire.
Sometimes annoyingly so.
A few weeks later, we got our wedding photos back.
We had hundreds.
