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The compliment makes Lisa’s cheek redden even more. I can tell how much it means to her, especially because Liam is always earnest, always means what he says.
“Yes,” I say, “she is. She’s cleverer than I was at her age.”
“And me,” Triston says, voice low so he doesn’t disturb Rachel. “By far.”
“And for our next photo…”
Lisa presses the button and the projector flickers. I almost let out a cry when I see it. It’s one I’ve never seen before.
She must’ve taken it in secret.
I remember the night, about a week ago, Triston and I cooked together. He was on one side of the kitchen island and I was on the other. He made a joke and I laughed, and that’s when Lisa captured the moment.
It shows the love between us. Not the big Hollywood moments, not the extravagant gestures.
It shows the everyday love, the casual perfection of what we have. We’re looking at each other like it’s never going to wane. Like we’re never going to stop loving one another.
And we’re not.
We were fated to be together. Lisa – the girl I grew up with and my dearest friend – guided us to each other.
“Do you like it, Mommy?” Lisa asks.
I look at her, my pretty, smart daughter, and then at my handsome and rugged husband.
“I love it.”
