Mom turned. "What did you do?"
Nicole answered. "He pushed her into the pool."
Mom stared at Ryan.
"On purpose?"
"Mom," I said.
"On purpose?"
Ryan threw up his hands. "It was a prank."
My mother took off one shoe.
I grabbed her wrist.
"Mom."
"I'm not going to hit him."
"You took off your shoe."
"My feet hurt."
She was absolutely going to hit him.
Grandpa almost smiled.
That was when I nearly cried.
My father should have been there.
He died when I was 16.
A heart attack at 48.
Grandpa had stepped into every important moment afterward without pretending he could replace him.
Graduation. College. My first apartment. The day Ryan proposed.
That morning, while walking me down the aisle, Grandpa had squeezed my hand.
"Your dad would be so proud of you, sweetheart."
Now I wondered what Dad would have thought of the man I'd married.
Ryan reached for my arm.
"Emily, let's go somewhere private."
I pulled away.
"You planned this."
"We just established that."
"For weeks."
"It was supposed to be funny."
"For whom?"
