Dan barely spoke.
“I just want to make sure I don’t mess anything up,” he said.
“You won’t,” I told him. “You never do.”
My stepfather looked at me then — like really looked at me — and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else. My mom called his name from the hallway, sharp and impatient, and whatever he was about to say stayed where it was.
“You never do.”
The music started outside. The guests were settling into their seats, and the coordinator peeked in and told us we had two minutes.
Dan offered me his arm. I looped mine through it without thinking.
He took my wrist gently, just enough to get my attention, and leaned in close so no one else could hear him.
“It’s time for you to know the truth, hon,” he said. “I know this is the worst timing, but…”
Dan offered me his arm. I looped mine through it without thinking.
I laughed, soft and confused, because the moment felt wrong for anything serious.
“What truth?”
Dan swallowed, and his grip tightened slightly on my arm. But before he could answer, someone screamed.
The music cut off abruptly, like someone had yanked a cord from the wall. Chairs scraped across the floor. I heard a few gasps, then my name spoken in voices that didn’t sound like themselves.
But before he could answer, someone screamed.
Dan turned his head toward the door, and I followed his gaze.
A man stood at the entrance of the hall.
He looked older than I expected, though I had never expected anything at all. His hair was thinner, his face worn in a way that came from years of disappointment rather than age alone.
His eyes locked onto mine, and the air in the room felt heavier.
He looked older than I expected…
My mother made a sound that didn’t sound human.
“Don’t look at him, Stephanie!” she exclaimed, stepping toward me.
Dan moved first. He shifted his body in front of mine, his hand still clutching my arm.
“Stay behind me.”
The man at the door didn’t wait for permission or even an invitation.
“Don’t look at him, Stephanie!”
“I would sit if I were you, Stephanie. You’ve been living a lie for fifteen years, and you aren’t going to like what comes next.”
Something inside me tilted, like a picture frame knocked slightly off-center.
“Who are you?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“You’ve been living a lie for fifteen years, and you aren’t going to like what comes next.”
My mother didn’t respond. Dan looked at the tiled floor. But the man answered for them all.
“My name is Nigel. And I’m your father.”
The ceremony didn’t happen, of course. Guests were ushered out in hushed confusion. Noah stayed with me the entire time, his hand warm in mine, his expression calm even when I was anything but.
“What do you want to do, my love?” he asked gently.
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