Chapter 7 - Guests of Honor
Two weeks later, Lily and I were in the front row of a packed house at the Riverton Community Playhouse, gripping the signs we'd made with glitter glue at the kitchen table.
The lights went down. A familiar drumbeat thumped through the speakers. And out walked my quiet, mild-mannered, spice-rack-alphabetizing husband in a sparkly dress, saucer sunglasses, and that ridiculous platinum wig.
Lily screamed with joy.
"Mom — that's DAD!"
He owned that stage. He hit every note wrong and every move exactly right, and the room absolutely lost it. His coworkers were on their feet before the last chorus even started.
They tripled the donation before he'd walked off.
On the drive home, Lily announced from her booster seat that Daddy was officially the coolest person alive. I reached over and squeezed Aaron's hand across the console, still wiping my eyes from laughing.
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Three years we'd waited for this family. And I'd almost let one terrified morning crack it down the middle.
Love, it turns out, sometimes shows up in red lipstick and a bad wig. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
