Maybe because children attach memory to objects better than adults do.
Marcus once told her:
“You can have it whenever you want.”
I remember feeling relieved.
We still had people.
We still had pieces of Daniel.
That seemed like enough.
At least then.
SOMETHING IN MARCUS’S FACE
The party looked like something from a lifestyle magazine.
Lights hung over the patio.
The pool glowed blue.
People from the office stood around holding expensive drinks and wearing clothes I would never choose for an afternoon with a four-year-old.
Sophie was wearing a yellow dress with a faint grass stain near the bottom.
The second we came through the gate, she spotted Marcus.
Then she ran.
“Sophie!”
She darted around two guests before I could catch her.
Marcus intercepted her first.
He lifted her into his arms.
“Got you.”
She laughed.
I hurried over.
“Marcus, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“She’s running around your guests.”
