Chapter 34

Dean’s POV

Diane's got the dining table buried in boxes, hunting for old photos to use in the wedding slideshow, two piles already forming — SLIDESHOW, and, less helpfully, MAYBE.

"You're recruited," she says, not looking up. "Sit. Sort. No complaining."

"I wasn't going to complain."

"You were absolutely going to complain."

"SLIDESHOW goes on the left, everything else goes in MAYBE unless it's actively unusable," she explains, sliding a fresh stack toward me. "I'll make final cuts later. Nobody's baby pictures make it in without my say-so."

"Democratic process."

"Absolutely not. I'm the bride. I get the final veto."

Marie's already elbow-deep in a shoebox. When I sit down she doesn't quite meet my eyes — same careful thing I've been doing right back at her since the park.

Dad's at the head