And that ridiculous platinum-blonde wig.
Ava screamed with excitement.
“Mom!”
She pointed toward the stage.
“That’s DAD!”
The audience erupted.
And then David owned that stage.
He hit every note wrong.
But somehow, he got every gesture right.
His coworkers were on their feet before he had even reached the last chorus.
The room completely lost its mind.
And somehow, the strangest thing was watching the man I had known for years willingly embarrass himself in front of a packed auditorium for a children’s hospital.
They tripled the donation before he had even left the stage.
On the drive home, Ava declared David the coolest human being on Earth.
I squeezed his hand across the center console.
I was still laughing.
Still shaking my head.
And still thinking about how close I had come to letting one terrifying phone call completely destroy my sense of security.
After three years of waiting and hoping for our family, I had almost allowed one panicked morning to make me question everything.
But the truth was much simpler than the story my frightened mind had created.
My husband wasn’t hiding another woman.
He wasn’t living a secret life.
He was hiding a platinum wig, a sparkly dress, oversized sunglasses, and red lipstick because he was preparing to embarrass himself for a good cause.
Love, I learned that night, doesn’t always look the way you expect it to.
Sometimes it wears lipstick.
Sometimes it wears a ridiculous wig.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it gets caught in the trunk by a curious seven-year-old before the big surprise.
And honestly?
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
