I immediately looked at her.
“Granddaughter.”
Betty frowned.
“What?”
“In our family, the first child is always a girl.”
She scoffed.
“Well, in ours, it’s always a boy.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
And then, for the first time in weeks, I started laughing.
Betty did too.
There we were—two women who had nearly destroyed our children’s wedding because we believed their families were too different.
And now we were already arguing about grandchildren who didn’t even exist.
I shook my head.
“We are going to drive each other crazy as mothers-in-law.”
“Absolutely,” Betty muttered.
Then her expression softened.
She looked through the window at Kira and Marcus.
“But if they’re happy, I suppose that’s what matters.”
I followed her gaze.
My daughter was laughing with the man she loved.
She looked happier than I had seen her in years.
And for the first time, instead of focusing on what made Marcus different from the person I had imagined for her, I saw what actually mattered.
