Vanessa said,
“You told me Claire made your life miserable for years.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
I almost smiled.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I said,
“This is exactly why I’m leaving.”
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“No. You don’t get to drop this on us and walk away.”
“I didn’t drop anything on you. Lily recognized Vanessa from a photograph.”
“You brought the photograph.”
“Lily carries it sometimes. She has questions about where she came from. That is normal.”
“You knew Vanessa would be here.”
“Yes.”
“So this was planned.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
Five years earlier, an accusation from Daniel could have kept me awake until sunrise.
I would replay every sentence, trying to figure out what I had done wrong and how to explain myself in a way he couldn’t twist.
That version of me no longer existed.
“I came because my best friend married your brother,” I said. “Lily came because Rachel asked her to be a flower girl. I did not arrange your relationship, Daniel. I did not arrange Vanessa’s pregnancy seven years ago. I did not arrange Owen’s death. And I certainly did not arrange for your girlfriend to lie to you.”
Rachel folded her arms.
Daniel had nothing to say.
I walked to the bridal suite.
Lily was sitting cross-legged on a couch with a plate of cake balanced on her knees.
Michael had found a cartoon for her on his phone.
When she saw me, she smiled.
Purple icing stained one corner of her mouth.
“Are we going home?”
“In a little while.”
“Is that lady mad at me?”
My chest tightened.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Did I do something bad?”
“Nothing at all.”
She studied my expression with the careful seriousness children use when they are deciding whether adults are telling the truth.
“Is she really my birth mom?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know I’m Lily?”
“Yes.”
Lily thought about that.
“Why didn’t she say hi?”
Adoptive parents prepare themselves for certain questions years before their children ask them.
Other questions arrive unexpectedly in bridal suites beside half-eaten wedding cake.
“Because she was surprised,” I said. “And because grown-ups sometimes need time when they feel a lot of things at once.”
“Does she want to know me?”
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the only honest answer I could give.
A few minutes later, someone knocked.
