My dad’s sixtieth birthday invitation said, “Black tie only—dress properly or don’t come.” Then Mom called and whispered, “Your sister’s boyfriend is a senator’s son. We can’t have you embarrassing us.”

want me seen.”

She went silent.

I hung up before she could wrap the knife in something prettier.

That night, I almost stayed home.

Then Emma came out of my bedroom wearing a navy thrift-store dress, twirling in the hallway like she belonged in a movie.

“Do I look fancy enough, Mommy?”

My throat burned.

“Yes,” I whispered. “You look perfect.”

So we went.

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