But the second Stephen stepped through the door, something changed.
He looked wonderful. I could tell he’d been excited about dinner because of how nicely he was dressed, and he was holding a wrapped box in his hands.
Maybe it was a present for my daughter.
Maybe it was for me.
I guess I’ll never know.
Because the second he stepped into the hallway, he came face-to-face with my shy but curious four-year-old daughter, who was practically bouncing with excitement.
Stephen froze.
Then he gasped so loudly that he dropped the present from his hands.
He stared at my daughter, then looked at me with absolute horror, as if he’d just seen something terrifying instead of a four-year-old girl in a blue sundress.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
“I know her.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
My daughter, Lily, looked down at the package on the floor.
The corner had split open, exposing a flash of yellow wrapping tissue.
