Tom attended alone.
At least, I thought he had.
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It wasn't until the reception that I saw him standing at the entrance to the ballroom.
Beside him was Kristen.
His wife of four months.
I'd met Kristen twice.
Emma had met her once, briefly, at a birthday dinner.
Sophie had never met her.
Tom hadn't mentioned bringing her.
Not once.
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Kristen wore a pale blue dress with one hand linked through Tom's arm.
I looked toward Emma.
Her smile disappeared.
Maybe half a second.
Then it returned.
That was Emma.
She walked over.
Kissed her father on the cheek.
Hugged Kristen.
"I'm glad you made it," she said.
If you didn't know my daughter, you'd have believed her.
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I knew her.
Her shoulders had gone rigid.
Sophie appeared beside me.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"Don't."
"He brought her?"
"Sophie."
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"Emma barely knows her."
