Emma had spilled her juice and was in the midst of a meltdown as I scrubbed the floor, mortified.
A man crouched beside me and started joking with Emma, pretending to slip in the sticky mess.
“Kids are tough,” he said with a warm grin. “But worth every second.”
That was Brian.
Most men lost interest when they learned I had a child. But not him.
From the beginning, he embraced Emma like she was his own.
We dated for two years. Brian never once treated Emma like baggage—he was at every school event, taught her how to ride a bike, and even showed up to father-daughter dances in a suit and tie.
When we married three years ago, I thought the hardest part was behind us.
But there was one person who never accepted us: Brian’s mother, Carol.
She didn’t say much, but her silences and side glances spoke volumes.
On holidays, her “real” grandkids received expensive gifts, while Emma got token ones—crayons, coloring books.
Carol never explicitly excluded Emma, but she also never included her.
From the start, she disapproved of our relationship. I overheard her once, telling Brian I was “damaged goods” and Emma was “extra baggage.”
CONTINUE READING ON THE NEXT PAGE 🥰💕
