“Tell me what, Dad?” Melissa asked, and I could hear the confidence draining out of her voice. I looked down at the folder, at fifty-two thousand dollars of receipts, at every yes I’d given without a second thought. “That I’m not sending the honeymoon money,” I said quietly. “And that the wedding balance, the part that wasn’t due until next week, isn’t coming either.” The silence on the line stretched so long I thought the call had dropped.

“You already paid the venue,” she said finally, her voice climbing. “You said everything was set.” I closed my eyes. “The venue is paid. The photographer, the flowers, the band, all paid, because I made those payments before your fiancé decided I wasn’t immediate family. But the final catering balance and the honeymoon were still mine to send. And I’ve decided I’m not going to fund a celebration I’m apparently not welcome at.” Trevor’s voice came onto the line then, sharp and no longer smooth. “Gerald, you can’t just back out. People are counting on this.” I let his words hang there. Then I said the thing I’d been holding since the night they told me another man would walk my daughter down the aisle. “No, Trevor. You counted on me. There’s a difference. And there’s one more thing you both need to know before you decide how to talk to me.”