“So everyone can see me.”
I kissed her forehead.
“That sounds perfect.”
For eight years, it had been just me and Lily.
Her biological father disappeared when he learned I was pregnant, and I eventually stopped expecting anyone to stay.
Then I met Glen.
He never treated Lily like someone else’s child.
He helped with homework, attended school plays, took her for ice cream, and listened patiently to stories about things only an eight-year-old could find fascinating.
Most importantly, Lily called him Dad.
But his mother, Ida, never accepted our little family.
The evening before the wedding, she stared at the finished dress hanging over a chair.
“That’s for the girl?” she asked.
“Lily,” I corrected gently.
Ida’s mouth tightened.
“She isn’t family.”
Glen walked into the room just in time to hear her.
“Mom.”
“You still have time to cancel this wedding,” Ida said. “Why tie yourself to a woman with baggage?”
Glen’s face hardened.
“Lily isn’t baggage.”
“She isn’t your blood.”
“She doesn’t have to be.”
Ida glared at him.
“If you marry her, don’t expect me to accept that child.”
Glen walked her to the door.
When he returned, I asked, “Do you think she’ll ever come around?”
He wrapped his arms around me.
“I hope so. But Lily doesn’t need anyone’s permission to belong.”
I wanted to believe him.
I had no idea how far Ida was willing to go.
The next morning, Lily’s excited voice echoed upstairs.
“Mommy! I’m going to put my dress on!”
Then came a scream.
