The man who stepped in when my father refused to walk me down the aisle

home with the windows down. The air smelled like cut grass and warm pavement. “You’re quiet,” he said.Places of Worship

” I looked at my hands. Still dirt beneath one nail. Still calluses. Still mine. ” “That narrows it down very little. ” Marcos glanced at me. ” I watched the road ahead. ” The greenhouse. The business. The workshop. My marriage. My relationship with Franco. The boundaries with Vanessa. The changed relationship with Dad. None had simply appeared. Nothing worth keeping ever had. You build it. Board by board. Conversation by conversation. Boundary