I led her toward our table, but my mother intercepted me halfway there.
“Claire, where have you been?” she asked sharply.
“At the wedding,” I said.
“This is not the time for your attitude. Vanessa needs the family photos moved up because the sunset is happening too fast.”
I stared at her. “I’m with Sophie.”
“So put her down somewhere and come outside. Honestly, must everything be difficult with you?”
There it was. Even now. Even here.
I should have said no. I should have taken Sophie and left the moment my mother opened her mouth.
Instead, because old habits die slower than pride, I crouched in front of my daughter and said, “Stay right here near the sweetheart table where I can see you. I’m just going to step outside for one minute, okay?”
She nodded.
“Do not wander.”
“Okay.”
“Do you need anything?”
She looked around the room, then pointed to the ornate chair at the sweetheart table. “Can I sit there for one second? It looks soft.”
I hesitated.
Vanessa and Ethan were outside with the photographer and wedding party, and the chair was empty. Sophie was exhausted. It would be one minute.
“One second,” I said. “And don’t touch anything else.”
Her face lit up. “I get to sit in the princess chair?”
“One second.”
She climbed carefully onto the edge of the chair, her small legs dangling, her flower girl skirt puffing around her like a cloud. She folded her hands in her lap and gave me a solemn royal nod.
I laughed despite myself.
That image would haunt me later—the last innocent second before everything split open.
I stepped outside onto the terrace where the photographer was trying to wrangle family members into position against a backdrop of gold-lit vines. Vanessa was already irritated that our father kept squinting.
