"Work emergency. She couldn't get away in time."
Carol's face fell. "Oh. That's—that's too bad. I'm sure she tried."
"I'm sure she did."
David reached over and squeezed Grant's shoulder, his expression sympathetic in a way that made Grant's chest hurt worse.
They turned back around, and Grant was left staring at the empty seat.
More people arrived. Hannah and Mark. Ryan and Jenna. Chris and Emily. Chris was carrying a video camera.
They all asked the same question.
"Where's Riley?"
Grant gave the same answer each time, his voice getting tighter with repetition.
"Work emergency. She couldn't make it."
Their expressions ranged from sympathetic to pitying to awkwardly uncomfortable. Like they'd expected this. Like they'd known Riley would choose work over being here.
The thought made something hot and sharp twist in Grant's gut.
At five minutes to five, Max and Ava found him in the crowd. They were dressed as sheep—white cotton balls glued to sweatshirts, construction paper ears pinned to headbands.
"Uncle Grant!" Ava threw her arms around his neck. "You came!"
"Of course I came. Wouldn't miss it."
Max bounced on his heels. "Where's Aunt Riley? She promised she'd be here."
Grant's throat closed up. "She had to work, buddy. But she's really sorry. She wanted to be here."
Ava face crumpled. "But she promised."
"I know. Sometimes grown-ups have to break promises even when they don't want to."
The words felt like glass in his mouth.
Hannah appeared and shepherded the kids back toward the stage area, shooting Grant an apologetic look over her shoulder.
Grant sank back into his seat and pulled out his phone.
Riley had called twice. Both times while he'd been talking to people, his phone still on silent. She'd left a voicemail.
Grant stared at the notification, his finger hovering over the play button.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear her apologize. Didn't want to hear the excuses about why work had been more important than keeping her promise.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket without listening.
The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted. A teacher walked onto the stage to welcome everyone and explain the program.
Grant sat in the dark with an empty seat beside him and tried to pay attention.
The pageant was exactly what you'd expect from a small-town production put on by kids under ten. Lines delivered with varying degrees of success. One wise man who forgot to bring his gift. An angel who waved enthusiastically at her parents every thirty seconds.
It was chaotic and imperfect and absolutely wonderful.
