I looked between Graham and Henry.

“You still haven’t told me what the deal was.”

Henry glanced at our daughter, then back at me.

“No.” He sighed. “Graham’s part was telling me when Mari stopped checking every photograph. Mine was restoring this if that day ever came.”

Henry looked at Graham.

“Then tonight, he apparently decided you needed a part too.”

Graham shrugged. “I needed to get you outside somehow.”

I stared at them both. “My turn to do what?”

Henry held my gaze. “See what Mari doesn’t need from you anymore.”

Marissa reached the vanity.

“Henry, why do you have this?”

Henry touched the polished edge.

“You told me you didn’t want it in your room, Mari. You never told me to throw it away.”

Marissa stared at him.

Then Graham quietly said, “This is where the deal comes in.”

I turned on him.

“Start talking.”

—

Months earlier, Graham had asked Henry for his blessing before proposing.

“I didn’t give him permission,” Henry said. “Mari doesn’t need mine. We just talked.”

Henry had asked Graham one question.

“What do you love most about her face?”

Graham’s expression had apparently soured immediately.

“I don’t know how to answer that without cutting her into pieces.”

So Henry told him about Marissa’s old habit.

Every photograph.

Every family gathering.

Every camera.

“Is it okay?”