And there was Emma, in the middle. Between them.
Exactly where she had been for eight long years.
For eight years she’d been finding the compromise. Making room. Splitting the difference. Keeping everyone just happy enough to stay.
I was certain she was about to do it again.
She looked at Tom.
Then at Daniel.
“Neither.”
Tom blinked. So did Daniel.
Emma turned toward the one person in that room who had never once asked her to carry anything for him.
Her husband.
“Michael,” she said. “Dance with me.”
He didn’t hesitate for a second. He walked onto the floor and held out his hand, and Emma put hers in it.
The music started.
And my daughter danced.
Nobody cheered. I’m glad they didn’t.
It wasn’t a victory over Tom. It wasn’t a rejection of Daniel. It wasn’t revenge on anyone.
For once in her life, Emma had been given a choice, and she hadn’t stopped to figure out which answer would keep everyone else comfortable.
She’d simply chosen.
I looked over at Tom. He was still there. So was Kristen. Daniel hadn’t left either.
That mattered.
But for the first time in eight years, it wasn’t Emma’s job to make sure they stayed.
