Carol, my ex-mother-in-law (MIL), called twice during those weeks just to check in. She’d never let go of us, not really. She still picked Lily up on Sundays, still sent me birthday cards, and still asked how I was sleeping.
“You doing okay with all this wedding business, honey?” she asked.
“Mm-hm,” she said, in that way she had, as if she were filing something away.
The morning of the wedding, I curled Lily’s hair into soft ringlets and watched her twirl in front of the mirror. Her pearls caught the light. She looked like every dream I had for her. I tucked a handwritten note into the bottom of her basket, where only she would find it.
“Daddy will always love you.”
I kissed the top of her head, sent her off with Mark, and told myself that day would be the proof she needed. I had no idea my phone would ring with bad news.
Thirty minutes before the ceremony, my phone rang. I’d just finished freshening my lipstick, still smiling about Lily’s note in the basket. I wasn’t in the wedding, but Mark had asked if I’d pick up our daughter later.
The chapel was only 15 minutes from my house, so I was getting ready in advance.
The screen said, “Mark.”
“Mark, is something the matter? Are you ready for…?”
