« Liv, » he said quietly, « it hasn’t moved. »
I looked down.
He was right.
The cuff of my six-year-old daughter’s oversized black suit sat exactly where I’d folded it ten minutes earlier.
Ryan caught my wrist.
Around us, parents crowded the hallway, taking photos. Most of the girls in Chloe’s group wore sparkly dresses or bright skirts.
Chloe looked like she’d borrowed clothes from a tired accountant.
She loved every inch of it.