Outside, he offered me his arm.
I took it.
Not because everything had healed.
It hadn’t.
But Daniel was finally learning that loving someone meant standing beside them when it was uncomfortable—not merely when other people approved.
I had never needed a wealthy man’s approval to belong beside my son. And now he had to prove he understood that, too.
But here is the real question: What’s worse: a bride who looks down on her future mother-in-law, or a son who agrees to hide his own mother?
