She narrowed her eyes. “Please don’t joke with a curling iron near my head.”
I smiled and fixed the curl anyway.
Iris had pretended for months not to care whenever Ryan texted.
Ryan was the boy every girl wanted: football captain, honor student, and polite enough to lower mothers’ guards.
***
“Do I look okay?” she asked.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
She touched the strap of her dress. “I feel like something is missing.”
“Do I look okay?”
I knew what she meant before she said it.
“Nothing’s missing,” I said.
She looked down. “Do you think Dad would recognize me now?”
Iris glanced up. “Sorry. Bad topic.”
“No,” I said. “Tonight is about dancing and pictures.”
“I just wonder sometimes,” she whispered. “If he ever thinks about me on big days.”
“He made his choice, Iris.”
