The name belonged to a man called Curtis Vail, a collector who ran an informal betting circle. Derek had been losing money for over a year, and he had drained nearly nine thousand dollars from our joint savings to pay him. When the account ran low, he gave Brooke my clothes and told her to sell them for cash to cover what he still owed. He claimed I had agreed, because he knew Brooke would never question him.

Brooke arrived within the hour, red-eyed and shaking, and confirmed it all. She admitted she hated lying and had only agreed because Derek swore I knew. She handed me an envelope with the money from the sold dresses, six hundred and ten dollars, and a list of every buyer. Joan had already spoken with each one. Within two days, I had every piece back, including the dusty-rose dress, freshly steamed.

Derek begged me to forgive him, but I told him I needed time. I contacted my bank and had the joint account split, with Piper’s fund moved into an account in my name only. Joan helped me arrange a repayment plan through a financial counselor, and Derek agreed to attend gambling counseling. He moved into his mother’s spare room, where she checked his bank balance every Friday. I did not promise him anything.

Piper arrived eight weeks later, healthy and loud. Derek met her in the hospital hallway, red-eyed, and I let him hold her for five minutes. Then I asked him to prove, over many months, that the man I had married could still be trusted. I wore the dusty-rose dress to the photo session, and Brooke held the camera.