Mia adored her.
When the cream-colored envelope came, I almost didn’t show it to Mia, honestly. I figured a wedding — with dancing, with all those people, with everyone on their feet celebrating — would be exactly the kind of thing that would hurt her. I figured she’d say no.
But she saw the envelope on the counter. She saw Claire’s name.
And she picked it up, and she read it, and something happened to her face that I hadn’t seen in over a year.
She lit up.
“Mom.” She looked at me, and her eyes were shining, actually shining. “Mom, it’s Claire’s wedding. Can we go? Please? I want to be there so badly.”
I stood in that kitchen and I could have wept. Because there she was. There was my girl, somewhere down inside, still alive, and something about Claire had reached her.
“Of course we can go, baby,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss it.”
