My dad got married this month, and I couldn’t be happier for him. He’s one of the most important people in my life, and now he has a special someone to spend forever with. Although I couldn’t be there for the ceremony, I can imagine them standing in the courthouse, holding each other’s hands and knowing that their commitment to each other was being made official. I’m the worst combination of cynical and romantic about the institution of marriage, but I hope with all my heart that this marriage lasts and makes them both happy.

I was a lot less happy when they first got together. I never openly disliked her, but I was certainly a lot more cautious and hesitant, my excessive politeness probably seeming cold. When we first met, I was full of questions. What if we didn’t like each other? Is she good enough for him? Will he still hang out with me?

When he told me he’d begun to see someone, I was genuinely happy for him, but also very unsure. As I am with all of my loved ones, I’m very protective, and I wanted to make sure she was good enough for him. Nevermind the fact that he should be old enough and wise enough to make that decision on his own, I wanted to see that she was treating him right and that they were good for each other. I’d seen my parents marriage crash and burn, and any time either of them started dating someone, I felt compelled to make sure that this time wouldn’t be so painful for them. So of course our first conversations were more like interviews, but she graciously put up with my concerns and let me see how much they care about each other.

Part of my problem was that I didn’t want to share his attention, and I’d never before had to share it so much. He was a stay-at-home dad while I was growing up, so even though my siblings and I split his time, he was never far away. I could always count on him to want to go on an ice cream run, whether it was a pick-me-up or a celebration. We shared book recommendations and, as I got older, debates about politics and society. When I left for college, I was secure in the knowledge that he was never more than a phone call away. I was scared because this new relationship had the potential to disrupt that, and maybe because I never really learned how sharing is supposed to work.

Luckily, I didn’t really have anything to worry about. His wife and I get along very well - we have a great time teasing my dad about the Westerns he watches and nagging him to take better care of himself. And no matter what, he’s still my dad. I know I can call him anytime, and he’ll always be there for me, from advice to just chatting. Just because now he loves another person too doesn't mean he loves me any less.

Even better, now I have someone else who’s there for me. With their marriage, I’m getting another source of support. There’s another person offering to pick me up from the airport or bring me ice cream as I recover from finals week. I feel privileged to be able to add her into my life. She doesn't feel like a parent, because, unlike I feared, there's been no telling me what I can and can't do or having to change my schedule and habits. I know adding people to families doesn't always work out this smoothly, but I'm happy to say that my dad's wife is a friend I'm glad to have.