at the hotel. White tablecloths, simple eucalyptus-and-cream-rose arrangements, a local DJ, and a dinner of chicken, pasta, vegetables, and rolls suited Allison perfectly. I shared a table with Michael, Ruth, two Indiana cousins, and one of Allison’s college friends. For almost two hours I forgot Daniel was nearby. Not forever, and not consistently, but the intervals were growing: five minutes, twenty, then two hours. That was how independence began to feel real.
At about 7:30 Michael and I stepped into the quieter lobby to call his daughter in Portland. She’d chosen his tie and he wanted to show it to her. We stood by the fireplace as Daniel and Rachel left the elevator. She wore a green dress; he had changed into a pale-blue shirt and dark trousers. His hand rested at her lower back. When Rachel kissed his cheek, he smiled—and immediately checked whether I had noticed. Rachel
