Ryan held her heels and his tux jacket.
“You have five minutes,” he said.
I gripped the hallway table. “Excuse me, Ryan?”
His voice stayed low. “Five minutes to tell Iris the truth, Jane. Ma’am. Or I will.”
And just like that, the worst thing I had ever done as a mother walked into my house wearing a black tuxedo.
***
Earlier that afternoon, Iris had sat in front of my vanity mirror while I pinned the last curl into her hair.
