“That was the original idea,” Vanessa snapped.
Daniel stared at her.
“You told me we were going to do a cake-smashing joke together.”
“We were!”
“Then why did you do it to my mother?”
Vanessa looked away.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Finally, she said, “Because she was standing there looking so pleased with herself.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She’d been acting like this was her special day. The blue dress. Asking about the dance. Talking to the photographer about family pictures.”
I felt a painful tightness in my chest.
“I asked the photographer where I should stand when you wanted family photographs.”
Vanessa’s face flushed.
“You always make everything about Daniel and yourself.”
My son stood.
“Vanessa, that’s enough.”
She rounded on him.
“Oh, now you’re defending her?”
He looked uncertain.
I could see him searching for words.
The familiar hesitation.
Then he said, “You told me the cake joke was between us. You never said you were going to do that to Mom.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Fine. I made a mistake. Can we please go back to our guests?”
I looked toward the doorway.
“You may return whenever you want.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Mom, please don’t leave.”
I met his eyes.
