And when he offered to walk into that ballroom beside me, he did not offer to fight my battle for me; he offered to stand next to me while I fought it, which is an entirely different thing.

There is a kind of love that swoops in and takes over, that makes the beloved into a damsel and the lover into a hero, and it is flattering and it is also, in its own way, one more version of not being seen — of being handled rather than partnered.

Julian never once did that.

In that ballroom, he stated the facts, and then he stepped back, and let me say the words to my father that only I could say.

He held my hand.