Chapter 3
We drove to the park instead.
The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and purple. We spread a blanket under our favorite oak tree.
Lily sat between us, still quiet, picking at the edge of her drawing.
My husband set the cake down carefully. He pulled seven candles from his pocket—he’d grabbed them from the table—and stuck them in the top.
“Make a wish, Lily,” he said, lighting them.
She looked up at him. “You’re the birthday boy, Daddy.”
“Then we’ll both wish,” he said, and winked.
We closed our eyes. We blew together.
Lily laughed when smoke curled up toward the branches.
As we ate slices of cake with our fingers, she finally told us what her picture was.
It was the three of us, holding hands. Above our heads she’d drawn three big hearts.
“I wrote ‘Real Family’ on it,” she said, turning it over.
My throat felt thick. I squeezed her shoulder. “It’s the best picture I’ve ever seen.”
Later, when Lily had fallen asleep leaning against his side, he turned to me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “For all the times I didn’t say anything. For letting them hurt her. For letting them hurt you.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I just didn’t think you’d ever see it.”
“I’ve seen it all along,” he said. “I was just scared. Scared of losing them. But today I realized—if I stay with them, I lose you two. And that’s a choice I don’t even have to think about.”
He pulled out his phone. I saw him scroll through his contacts.
Then he held it up so I could see.
He’d blocked his parents. His brother. His sister. All of them.
“For now,” he said. “Until they learn to respect us.”
May you like
I leaned my head on his shoulder. The wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere far away, a bird called.
For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.
