She didn't speak. But her eyes were on Francis—fixed, unwavering. The tenderness in them was so naked, it made my chest ache. In ten years of marriage, I had never seen her look at me that way.
Elise let out a cheerful giggle and nuzzled into Francis's chest. "Daddy, you're the best daddy in the whole world!"
My breath caught in my throat. If I hadn't lived the last ten years—hadn't been the one who woke up at 2 a.m. to change her sheets when she had a fever, who showed up at every parent meeting, every scraped knee and school recital—I would've believed him to be the one who raised her.
Sara stood then, brushing down her skirt with composed elegance. "Today's a good day. I made a reservation at the restaurant. Let's all go together."
She didn't say his name. Didn't need to. Her eyes never left him.
And just like that, they gathered—my parents, my wife, my daughter and my brother—as if the past decade had been a brief misunderstanding. As if the disaster of that wedding day had never torn everything apart.
They had forgotten.