My daughter brought her fiancé home to meet me before the wedding – as soon as she left the room, he said, “I’ve fulfilled my part of the agreement; now it’s your turn.”

Graham held out a bottle of wine.

“Mercy?”

“It is me.”

“I am Graham.”

Before I could answer, Marissa appeared behind me.

“Mari,” Graham said, smiling.

His whole face lit up when he saw her.

“Did your mother really let you bring dessert?”

Marissa rolled her eyes.

“I did it.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

She gave him a light tap on the arm.

He laughed.

Dinner went better than I expected.
Graham asked about Henry.

He listened as I explained how Marissa and I lived before Henry arrived.

He knew which parts of the lasagna Marissa didn’t like.

He refilled her glass of water without interrupting her.

At one point, Marissa started telling me about the disastrous weekend they spent in a cabin.

Graham picked up his cell phone.

“No,” she warned him.

“Oh yes.”

He showed me a picture.

Marissa stood beside an extinguished campfire, her hair flying over her face, laughing with her eyes almost closed.

His birthmark was clearly visible.