I’d been dreading Sunday since my phone call with Dad on Friday. Mass was uninspiring, but that wasn’t the priest’s fault. I couldn’t concentrate on the homily. My mind kept wandering back to Friday night on the dance floor. Miles was the first guy I’d ever dated that could really dance.

“Why are you smiling?” Mom leaned over and whispered in my ear when we stood for a hymn.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Does it have anything to do with Fri...