He said he wanted the girls to call him "Dad."
We were two days away, and everything was in motion. Oliver was staying at his parents' house across town. That Thursday evening, he FaceTimed me while I was busy with chores.
"Hey, quick question," he said, his face filling the screen. "Table runners — blush or red?"
He flipped the camera toward a sample board of linens.
I held up the floral mock-up from the planner.
"Blush. It'll match the roses perfectly."
We were two days away.
"Perfect," he said, flashing that easy grin. "Hold on, darling. My mom's calling me."
The screen went black.
I waited.
I figured he'd pop back on any second. Or maybe he just needed to ask her something about the rehearsal dinner.
Then, I heard voices.
"Did you get her to sign it, Oli?" a woman asked.
I figured he'd pop back on any second.
I recognized her voice immediately. It was Sarah, my soon-to-be mother-in-law. Her voice was clipped and purposeful.
Oliver chuckled. "Almost, Mom. She's weird about paperwork. But after the wedding? She'll do whatever I say, I promise. Especially with those freak kids of hers... She's clinging to security. That's the card I hold."
I went still.
And Oliver kept talking.
