The morning of Sophie’s party, I was in the downstairs bedroom zipping up my dress. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Derek reached from behind me and hooked the clasp at the back of my neck. His fingertips touched the burn scar. Then he pulled his hand back.
“‘Stress. Needs monitoring.’ June’s been using the doctor’s words as a weapon ever since.” I watched him in the mirror. “You still want me to play the patient today?”
His hand stayed on my shoulder for a moment. Then he turned me around to face him. “I know. You speak today. I won’t stop you.”
I froze. “What did you say?”
“I said you speak today, and I won’t stop you.” He looked at me. “Sophie needs a mom who speaks up. And I need to be a husband who speaks up.”
I held on to those words. Told myself they were real.
