Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Roger, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Margaret.”
I squeezed his fingers, already knowing where he was going.
Daniel reached for my hand and turned to face the room.
“Diane was actually right about one thing tonight.”
I squeezed his fingers, already knowing where he was going.
“My best friend passed away last month. He left behind a granddaughter, eight years old, with no one in this world,” he stated. “I asked Margaret weeks ago if she’d open her heart to one more, and she didn’t hesitate. When we come back from Paris, we’re bringing her home. So, Diane, my wife really is a grandma bride.”
I covered my mouth, the tears coming harder now.
For the first time in 56 years, I knew love had not skipped my address.
“A daughter,” I whispered into Daniel’s shoulder. “She’s really ours.”
“And one day a lot more, sweetheart.”
Diane sat frozen, her face wet with something that finally looked like shame.
The music began again. Daniel guided me onto the dance floor as eighty guests rose to their feet.
