I squeezed it once.
He squeezed back once.
And across the room, my mother smiled at my sister with a look I had seen my entire life.
Pride.
Approval.
Relief.
As if Lauren had finally said out loud what the rest of them had only hinted at for two long years.
I should tell you that my family loves appearances.
They love place cards and polished silver and matching outfits for holiday photos.
They love stories that can be repeated in public without anyone lowering their voice.
They love marriages that stay together on paper.
They love homes with wreaths on the front door and fresh hydrangeas in the entryway and couples who hold hands at neighborhood barbecues.
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