On the morning my ex-husband was marrying my younger sister, our nine-year-old daughter stood in front of my bedroom mirror while I fastened the last button on her dress.
She had been unusually quiet.
Too quiet for Amelia.
Normally, getting dressed for anything remotely fancy involved twenty questions, three complaints about shoes, and at least one argument about whether brushing her hair was a human-rights violation…. Continue Reading ⬇️
That morning, she simply stared at herself.Family Law
“Mom?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She smoothed the front of her pale blue dress.
“If Dad marries Aunt Lina today, is she still Aunt Lina?”
My fingers stopped on the final button.
“Of course she is.”
Amelia frowned at her reflection.
“Even if she keeps saying she’s going to be my bonus mom?”
There it was.
The phrase I had been trying very hard not to react to.
Bonus mom.
