“I kept Audrey’s pearls.”
His eyes moved toward Hannah.
“I know.”
“I suggested her photograph for the memorial table.”
“I know.”
“I never asked Hannah for anything except respect.”
Greg’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“And four days ago, you reduced all of that to ‘helping around the house.’”
He closed his eyes.
“That’s exactly what I did.”
I appreciated that.
No defense.
No explanation.
Just ownership.
“I’m sorry, Jenna.”
I looked at the white rose.
“I believe you.”
His eyes opened.
“But?”
“This doesn’t disappear tonight because Hannah gave a beautiful speech.”
He nodded immediately.
“I know.”
“I need you to understand the difference between protecting Audrey’s memory and erasing my presence.”
“I do.”
“You need to show me.”
“I will.”
We stood in silence.
Then Greg reached toward my hand.
He stopped before touching it.
“Can I?”
That tiny question almost broke me.
For eight years, we had been married.
For one week, I had felt invisible.
Now he asked.
I put my hand into his.
He squeezed gently.
“You were protecting the past,” I said.
His eyes filled.
“And Hannah lives in the present.”
“So do we.”
“Yes.”
The balcony door opened.
Karen stepped out.
She looked at us.
“Good.”
Greg raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“You look miserable.”
“That feels unnecessary.”
Karen looked at him.
“My sister loved you.”
Greg’s face changed.
“I know.”
“She would have hated what you did to Jenna this week.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“No, Greg.”
Karen stepped closer.
“Audrey wasn’t insecure.”
He looked away.
“She would never have believed somebody loving Hannah after she was gone made her less Hannah’s mother.”
I had not considered that.
Karen continued.
“You created that competition.”
Greg nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
Karen looked at me.
“Come inside.”
“Why?”
“Your stepdaughter is looking for you.”
The word landed differently now.
Stepdaughter.
Not lesser daughter.
Just a description of how we met.
Inside, Hannah stood near the DJ.
“What?”
She held out her hand.
“You owe me a dance.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You embarrassingly dance in kitchens.”
“That is private.”
“Not anymore.”
Ethan appeared beside her.
“She has video.”
“Traitor.”
He smiled.
Hannah dragged me onto the floor.
The DJ played an old Carole King song.
We did not perform some grand mother-daughter dance.
We just moved badly.
Hannah laughed.
I laughed.
At one point she leaned toward me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“What Dad said.”
I froze.
She knew.
Of course she knew now.
“How?”
“Karen guessed something was wrong. Dad admitted it.”
I sighed.
“It was your wedding week.”
“So?”
“I didn’t want to make you manage us.”
She looked annoyed.
“You’re allowed to have feelings during my wedding.”
“Noted.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Hannah squeezed my fingers.
“He doesn’t get to decide what you are to me.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it before.”
“I hoped it.”
She stopped dancing.
Then looked directly at me.
“Jenna.”
“Yes?”
“You raised me too.”
My throat closed.
“Not alone.”
“I know.”
“Your dad did most of the early years.”
“I know.”
“Your mother—”
“I know.”
She smiled softly.
“This isn’t a subtraction problem.”
That sentence stayed with me.