Chapter 2 - Nolan at the Door
Delaney was born with a deep red birthmark that spread across most of the left side of her face, from her cheekbone down past her jaw.
When she was small, it meant nothing to her. At four, she drew a family portrait where she'd colored half her own face purple, and when I asked why, she looked at me like I was slow and said, "Because purple's better than red."
Then she started kindergarten, and the other kids taught her what a mirror was really for.
By second grade she had opinions about which side of the class photo she wanted to stand on. By fifth grade she could find the right angle for a camera without seeming to think about it. At fourteen she made a rule: I wasn't allowed to post a single picture of her until she'd seen it first and signed off.
Dating scared her worse than any of that.
Her biological father left when she was six — just packed a bag and thinned out of our lives until there was nothing left to see. I was the one who had to sit on the edge of her bed and explain why a man who was supposed to love her had decided not to bother.
Dean came along a few years later. He never once tried to slide into a role that wasn't his. He just kept turning up — school plays, dentist appointments, the flu, the science fair — until one day Delaney quietly stopped bracing for the morning he wouldn't.
But she still never brought anyone home. Not one boy. Not in high school, not in college, not after.
Then, six months ago, she called me, and something in her voice made me sit down at the kitchen table before she got another sentence out.
"Mom. I met someone."
Now "someone" was standing on my porch.
I opened the door.
Nolan was good-looking in that easy, unbothered way that almost made me suspicious of him on sight. Tall. Clean jaw. The kind of face that had clearly never been laughed at in a hallway.
And for one small, ugly second, a thought got into my head before I could stop it.
Please don't let this be a joke somebody's playing on her.
I hated myself the instant I thought it.
He held up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. "Colleen?"
"That's me."
"Nolan."
Before I could step back to let him in, Delaney appeared at my shoulder.
"Hey," Nolan said, and his whole face changed — lifted, opened up. "Your mom actually let you bring dessert into her own house?"
Delaney rolled her eyes. "I made it myself."
May you like
"That wasn't what I asked."
She elbowed him in the ribs. He grinned like she'd done something charming.
