“Where do you want the vanity?” Henry asked.
Marissa considered it.
“Our apartment.”
So that evening, we loaded the vanity into Henry’s SUV and drove it to Marissa and Graham’s apartment.
Then all four of us wrestled it upstairs.
Halfway through the doorway, Marissa snapped, “Dad, rotate it before you destroy the wall.”
Henry froze.
So did Marissa.
She usually called him Henry.
Neither acknowledged it.
Henry simply smiled and rotated the vanity.
