“I wasn’t planning to.”
“This is Adele’s wedding.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
Her eyes sharpened. “You always were good at making yourself look noble.”
My jaw tightened.
Adele looked at me over her mother’s shoulder.
Not yet.
So I swallowed the answer I wanted to give.
“This is Adele’s wedding.”
The ceremony started soon after. Adele looped her arm through mine, and for a second I saw the girl from the stairs again.
“You’re squeezing my hand, Dad,” she whispered.
The doors opened, everyone stood.
When we reached Jerome, he looked at Adele like he understood exactly what she’d survived without needing her to explain it.
The officiant asked who was giving her away.
“You’re squeezing my hand, Dad.”
I opened my mouth.
Adele squeezed my arm. “The man who raised me does.”
A murmur went through the room.
