That sentence broke something in Chloe.
She walked toward him.
He looked startled.
She held out her hand.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
The band had been waiting for the father-daughter dance.
It was supposed to happen later.
Chloe didn’t care.
She led him onto the dance floor.
The room remained quiet.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Chloe, everybody’s staring.”
“Let them.”
The music began.
Her father placed one hand carefully on her back.
“You’re ruining your makeup.”
“You paid for half of it.”
He laughed.
That familiar laugh.
The one that had been in every difficult year of her childhood.
Chloe rested her head against his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“This is what fathers do.”
She looked up at him.
“No, Dad.”
Her eyes filled again.
“This is what you did.”
Then one of her sisters stepped onto the dance floor.
