So I did not gather my things.

I wiped the chocolate from Lily’s fingers with a wet wipe, and I kissed the top of her warm head, and I pointed her toward the dance floor, where Rachel and her new husband were swaying through their first dance.

“Go dance with Aunt Rachel for a little while, sweetheart,” I said into her hair.

“I’ll be right here the whole time, watching you.”

“Can I get another strawberry from the chocolate fountain after?” Lily asked, already half out of her chair, her whole face lit with the enormous seriousness a seven-year-old brings to the question of a second strawberry.