But something had changed in the years since, or perhaps something was changing right now, in this room, as he watched the reality of the family Laura had left, the six grown daughters, the father who had raised them, the wedding he was standing in the middle of.

He had been told a story too, I realized.

Laura had needed Gregory to believe her version as much as she needed anyone to, perhaps more, because he was the one she had to face across the breakfast table.

And I wondered, watching him avoid my gaze, how solid that story felt to him now, standing here, seeing with his own eyes the thing Laura had always described to him in the abstract as a bitter man keeping her from her children.

The bitter man was raising six accomplished daughters and had just walked the eldest down the aisle.