“I’m not pushing you.”
My fingers tightened around the dress.
“I know. I want to go in because I want to stop letting 17-year-old Betty decide where 28-year-old me is allowed to stand.”
“Wait.”
Andrew nodded toward the door. “Then let’s get you inside before fear changes its mind.”
I opened the door.
At check-in, the woman found my name on the list, then looked up at me twice.
“Leah?”
“That’s me.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t recognize you.”
I opened the door.
Andrew smiled.
For the first few minutes inside, no one paid much attention to me.
Then a woman in a red dress bumped into my shoulder.
