That part nearly broke me.
I walked her down the aisle thinking about my wife the entire time. I imagined Britney crying happy tears, embarrassing herself in front of everyone, and not caring one bit.
Cody stood at the altar in a white tuxedo with his practiced smile.
I watched his eyes during the vows.
He barely looked at Caitlyn.
His gaze kept moving over the guests, toward the venue staff, down to his phone when he thought no one noticed.
I noticed.
I gave the toast. I said the right things. I danced with my daughter. I shook Cody’s hand and called him son, which cost me more than anyone in that room knew.
Then I went home and called Alicia.
“I need to know if anything has been filed in the last six months with Cody Jenkins’s name on it,” I said. “Anything at all.”
“Nathan, it’s eleven o’clock at night.”
“I know. I’m sorry. First thing tomorrow?”
She sighed the way only a woman who had known you for fifteen years could sigh.
“First thing tomorrow,” she said.
I did not know it then, but what Alicia found the next morning was the last piece I needed.
She called me at 8:47.
“Nathan.”