Billy meant it. He had no idea how true it was, or what it had cost Grandma Rose, or what she’d carried on behalf of every person in that room. I opened my mouth. But I paused.
Instead, I said, “I’m glad you’re coming to the wedding. It would mean everything to me. Uncle Billy, would you walk me down the aisle?”
His face crumpled in the best way. He pressed his hand to his chest as if I’d just handed him something he hadn’t expected to receive.
“I would be honored, dear,” he said, his voice gone rough. “Absolutely honored.”
“Thank you, Da—” I paused, quickly recovering. “Uncle Billy.”
“Uncle Billy, would you walk me down the aisle?”
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***
Tyler drove home. We were maybe 10 minutes out before he glanced over.
“You had the letter,” he said. “You were going to tell him.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I watched the streetlights pass for a moment before I answered. “Because Grandma spent 30 years making sure I never felt like I didn’t belong somewhere. I’m not going to walk into that man’s living room and detonate his marriage, his daughters’ world, and his whole understanding of himself for what? So I can have a conversation?”
Tyler was quiet.
“Grandma spent 30 years making sure I never felt like I didn’t belong somewhere.”
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