J’ai dit oui.
We got married two years later. In the backyard of his mother’s house. Natalie was seven. She wore a yellow dress and carried a basket of petals and threw them all at once in a big clump at the start of the aisle and then walked the rest of the way with an empty basket, very solemnly.
Rob adopted her when she was nine. He asked her first. Not me. Her.
He sat down across from her at our kitchen table and he said, “Nat, I want to ask you something important. You can say no. I’d understand.”
“What?” she said.
“Can I be your dad?” he said. “Officially. On paper. With a judge and everything.”
Natalie looked at him for a long time. Then she said, “You already are.”
He had to go out to the garage for twenty minutes after that.
Rob raised her. I want to be clear about that.
