“Do you see any of your friends?” I asked, scanning the room.
“They’re all busy with their dads.”
We moved along the edge of the dance floor, staying close to the wall. Every few steps, people glanced at us—at my simple black dress and Katie’s too-brave smile.
A girl from Katie’s class, Molly, waved from across the room while her dad dipped her in a clumsy waltz. “Hi, Katie!” she called. Her dad gave us a quick, polite nod.
Katie smiled but didn’t move.
We found a spot by the mats. I sat down, and Katie curled beside me, knees pulled in, her badge catching the colored lights.
She watched the dance floor, eyes bright with hope. But when a slow song began, the weight of missing Keith seemed to shrink her even more.
“Mom?” she whispered. “Maybe… maybe we should go home?”
That nearly broke me. I took her hand, gripping it until my knuckles ached. “Let’s just rest for a minute, my love,” I said.
Just then, a group of moms swept past, their perfume lingering in the air. At the front was Cassidy, the PTA queen—perfect as always.
She noticed us and paused, her expression soft with something that looked like pity.
“Poor thing,” she said, just loud enough for others to hear. “Events for complete families are always hard on children from… well, you know. Incomplete families.”
I stiffened, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“What did you say?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.
Cassidy smiled thinly. “I’m just saying, Jill, maybe some events aren’t meant for everyone. This is a father-daughter dance. If you don’t have a father—”
