His eyes flicked to Nancy, waiting to see if she would correct him.
My throat clicked. My eyes burned.
Across the room, Nancy noticed. She nodded once, filing it away.
Nancy found me hiding in the kitchen.
“Dad, I went to the adoption agency last year,” she said. “I wanted to know who my biological father was. They gave me his details. Turns out he wasn’t hard to find. His name was in the paperwork, just not on my birth certificate. I thought maybe I was missing something about my life.”
Before I could answer, she walked back to the living room and tapped her glass.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” she called. “I want to do a toast. And if you keep talking, I’ll have to start throwing olives around the room.”
The laughter was real. Jacob straightened, ready for whatever role he imagined was his.
Nancy lifted her glass. “I’m grateful to be here with my father.”
Jacob’s smile widened. But Nancy kept going, her voice clear.
“And I don’t mean my biological father. I’m talking about the one who chose me and stayed for my entire life.”
The room stilled. Jacob’s expression faltered as Nancy’s eyes found mine.
“Bruce is my father,” she said. “He’s the one who picked me up and showed up when I didn’t know how to ask. He’s why I’m here, even after Julia left us. And he bought me this home.”
I swallowed hard.
“This house isn’t just a gift. It’s evidence of his love and support.”
