I paid for the dress, the hair, the makeup—everything. When she arrived at our house in pale blue, her hands were trembling. I thought she was nervous.
Then Jeremiah came downstairs in his tuxedo.
For one second, I saw something on his face I did not understand.
Not happiness.
Not surprise.
Satisfaction.
But I ignored it.
Because mothers are very good at ignoring what they are not ready to see.
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