“What are you going to do with it?”
“Use it only if she lies.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then it stays closed.”
That seemed fair.
The box was where it had always been, behind old papers and a blanket nobody used. I pulled it down with both hands and carried it back.
“There,” I said, setting it on the table. “Fifteen years.”
On the wedding day, I woke before sunrise.
I was in a small room, fighting with my tie, when Marcus came in.
“Need help?”
“I raised six girls,” I said. “You’d think I could handle fabric by now.”
He fixed the knot. “You handled the hard part. Today is about Chloe. But I know what it took to get her here.”
I had to blink.
“Take care of her.”
