“She said I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
This didn’t make any sense. So I pushed on. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
The blue folder held life insurance details.
Juniper hesitated, eyes flicking to the door. “She was in your office last night,” she said. “She took papers from the blue folder. I saw her.”
My throat tightened. “How many?”
“Three,” Juniper said. “I counted.”
The blue folder held life insurance details, house paperwork, and the legal stuff I avoided because it made my grief feel official. I felt heat rise behind my eyes, but I forced my voice to stay gentle.
“You did the right thing telling me,” I said.
Outside, Maribel stood near the chairs greeting guests.
Juniper’s lips trembled. “She said if I told, you’d choose me and she’d lose.”
My heart cracked in two. “You never keep scary secrets for adults,” I said. “Not for anyone.”
Juniper nodded like she was memorizing it. I offered my hand. “Come with me.”
Outside, Maribel stood near the chairs greeting guests. She barely realized I was walking towards her. When she finally spotted me, she lifted a hand and smiled wide.
I walked straight to her. “Maribel,” I said, low, “we need to talk.”
“Why did you put my daughter in the bathroom?”
Her smile stayed put. “Grant, now?”
“Yes,” I said. “Now.”
I guided her toward the side of the yard by the hedge. The officiant glanced over, puzzled, then looked away like he didn’t want to get pulled in. Maribel’s voice turned sweet.
“Are you nervous?” she asked. “Because that’s normal.”
“Why did you put my daughter in the bathroom?”
Maribel’s smile twitched. “Oh my God. Relax.”
“She watches me like I’m a criminal.”
“Answer me,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Your daughter sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“She’s nine,” I said. “In her own home.”
Maribel sighed, irritated. “She watches me like I’m a criminal. It’s weird.”
“Juniper said you were in my office last night,” I said. “She said you took papers from the blue folder.”
Maribel’s eyes flicked toward the house. “I was looking for tape. Decorations needed—”
Her patience snapped.
“Three papers,” I cut in.
Her smile thinned. “Grant, the music is starting. We can talk after.”
She reached for my hand with that bridal grin, fingers firm like she was trying to steer me. I pulled my hand away.
“No,” I said. “We’re talking now.”
Maribel’s face tightened. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” I said. “Protect my child?”
“You never met my wife.”
Her patience snapped, and she turned on me. “It’s not my fault she’s like her mother.”
The world went quiet inside my head. My lungs stopped for a beat.
I spoke carefully. “You never met my wife.”
Maribel blinked, and color drained from her face. “People talk,” she said too fast. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I stared at her. “You used her mother against her.”
Maribel’s smile tried to return, brittle. “Grant, don’t ruin this. Not in front of everyone.”
I took the mic.
