My daughter brought her fiancé home to meet me before the wedding — the moment she left the room, he suddenly said, “I did my part of the deal. Now it’s your turn.”
My daughter, Marissa, was born with a large birthmark covering part of her face. Her father disappeared from our lives when she was still a child.
To me, she had always been beautiful, but children at school could be cruel, and college wasn’t much kinder.
She never brought boys home. She never talked about dates. Whenever relatives asked whether she had met someone, she would smile and quickly change the subject.
That was why, when Marissa called me and nervously said, “Mom, I want you to meet my fiancé,” I nearly dropped the phone.
I spent the entire day cooking.
Then Graham walked through my door.
He was incredibly handsome, but what surprised me more was the way he treated Marissa.
He pulled out her chair. He refilled her glass before she asked. He listened when she spoke instead of looking at his phone. Every time she smiled at him, he smiled back like she was the only woman in the room.
I was almost embarrassingly happy.
Then Marissa suddenly stood up.
“I’ll be right back.”
She had barely disappeared down the hallway when Graham put down his fork.
His entire expression changed.
The warmth was gone.
“I did my part of the deal,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
My stomach dropped.
“What deal?”
He gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Please. Don’t take me for an idiot.”
Before I could call Marissa back, he stood up.
“Come with me.”
He led me through the kitchen and out into the backyard.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “What does any of this have to do with my daughter?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stopped, turned toward me, and showed me what he had prepared there.
And then, when I finally made out the person standing in the darkness of the backyard, I screamed,
“Oh my God… how did you arrange all of this?”
