Amy’s kids asked if they could finish their pie before packing. One of the aunts, my MIL’s sister, muttered something about “respecting your elders,” while another muttered about “family values.” But their efforts at manipulation didn’t land. Not this time.
Dinner ended awkwardly. Slowly, one by one, they packed their things.
Carl didn’t speak to me again. Janet offered a quick hug, but I didn’t move.
By 8 p.m., the house was quiet again. Ours again.
Brian and I sat on the porch in silence, the sky painted orange and lavender.
“I’m sorry it took this long,” he said.
“You saw me,” I whispered. “Really saw me.”
He nodded. “Always have. I just forgot to speak up for you and us.”
Lily came out in her pajamas, crawled into our laps, and said, “Can we have your birthday here next time? With just us?”
I smiled through my tears. “Yeah, baby. Just us.”
