There was.
But it was nothing like what I had feared.
Mike had not been trying to erase the man who came before him.
He had been teaching my daughters that loving their stepfather did not mean forgetting their biological father.
That afternoon, I learned something I would never forget.
A good stepfather does not demand that children erase their past to make room for him.
He simply finds a place beside it.
And the bathroom door that had terrified me only minutes earlier had been hiding one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for our family.
