Dad kept asking why I’d invited so many guests.
“It’s a birthday party, not a wedding!”
“Just enjoy yourself.”
He shook his head.
Then the doorbell rang.
Mom stood outside holding flowers.
She looked older than I remembered.
Nervous.
Almost frightened.
“Emma?”
I nodded.
She hugged me.
And for a moment, I was seven again.
Waiting for her to come back.
Dad appeared behind me.
He stopped.
“Rachel?”
“Hello, Daniel.”
His face went pale.
I reached for his hand.
“I invited her, Dad.”
He looked at me.
Then at Mom.
Finally, he nodded.
“It’s your birthday, Bug.”
That was all.
But I noticed he barely touched his dinner.
I noticed Mom watching him.
And I noticed how desperately I wanted everything to be okay.
After dinner, Dad stood to make his toast.
He fumbled with his glass.
“I’ve never been very good with speeches.”
Everyone laughed.
He looked at me.
“But this girl has given me 18 years of reasons to be proud.”
His voice cracked.
