“You told me you didn’t want it in your room, Mari. You never told me to throw it away.”

Marissa stared at him.

Then Graham quietly said, “This is where the deal comes in.”

I turned on him.

“Start talking.”

—

Months earlier, Graham had asked Henry for his blessing before proposing.

“I didn’t give him permission,” Henry said. “Mari doesn’t need mine. We just talked.”

Henry had asked Graham one question.

“What do you love most about her face?”

Graham’s expression had apparently soured immediately.

“I don’t know how to answer that without cutting her into pieces.”

So Henry told him about Marissa’s old habit.

Every photograph.

Every family gathering.

Every camera.

“Is it okay?”

“Can I see it?”

“Delete that one.”

Henry looked at me and asked, “You remember?”