Susan said nothing.
He continued.
“Lauren said Ava had been colder since we got engaged.”
“She said children test relationships.”
“She said I needed to stop rewarding jealousy.”
Susan looked away.
The movement hurt more than anger would have.
“I should have listened.”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared.
She turned back.
“Yes, you should have.”
He nodded.
Tears came.
Susan continued.
“And now you did.”
“Late.”
“But you did.”
“I put her in that room.”
“Daniel.”
“I left her with Lauren.”
“You left your daughter with the woman you were about to marry.”
“That should have been safe.”
“It should have.”
Susan squeezed his hand.
“Blame belongs first to the adult who made it unsafe.”
Daniel cried then.
Quietly.
Not for the wedding.
Not entirely.
For Anna.
For Ava.
For the man he had wanted to be.
For the possibility that he had mistaken romance for proof that their family was healed.
He had not wanted another mother for Ava.
At least that was what he told himself.
But part of him had.
Not a replacement for Anna.
Someone new.
Someone who could stand beside him.
Someone who would love Ava enough that Daniel no longer felt like the only wall between his child and the world.
He had wanted help.
There was no shame in wanting help.
The danger had been wanting it enough to interpret warning signs generously.
At nine the next morning, Daniel turned on his phone.
Hundreds of notifications.
He ignored social media.
Opened Lauren’s messages.
The first few were furious.
You humiliated me.
You made me look insane.
You could have talked to me privately.
Do you have any idea what my family paid?
Then defensive.
It was hair.
She needed a trim.
You always let her manipulate you.
Then emotional.
I love you.
Please don't destroy us over one mistake.
Then angry again.
You promised me forever.
Eventually:
I’m at the house.
We need to talk.
Daniel stared.
A message from Michael appeared.
Don't go alone.
Daniel called him.
“You awake?”
“Been awake.”
“Meet me at the house.”
“Twenty minutes.”
Daniel showered.
Changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt.
When Ava woke, he sat on the edge of the guest bed.
“How do you feel?”
She touched her hair.
“Ugly.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“Okay.”
He corrected.
“You don't like how it looks.”
“No.”
“That makes sense.”
“Can we fix it?”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“If you want.”
“Will they have to cut more?”
“Probably some.”
Her face tightened.
“But nobody touches it unless you say yes.”
Ava studied him.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
He almost added like before.
He stopped.
Promises did not become stronger by pretending they had never been broken by someone else.
Instead:
“And I will stay beside you.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
Daniel hesitated.
“I need to go to the house.”
Fear appeared.
“Is she there?”
“Yes.”
Ava pulled her knees upward.
“Do I have to go?”
“No.”