Owen shut Mia out of the playroom during a game, and my father said she needed to become less sensitive. Nothing had ever seemed serious enough to stop the tradition.

That was how my family managed most of its problems. Every separate incident stayed small enough to forgive. Only when you stepped far enough back could you recognize the pattern.

Chapter 3 — Friday Morning

On Friday morning, Andrew placed Mia’s suitcase inside our car. My husband had never completely trusted my parents. He stayed polite with them — he carried folding chairs during cookouts, helped Dad fix a section of fence, and listened while my mother repeated stories he had heard before.

But he noticed how Marissa’s preferences somehow became family decisions.

“Call every night,” he reminded Mia.

“I will.”