genuinely thought I had misunderstood her.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t keep living like this, Margaret.”
“Like what?”
“With babies. With grief. With everyone expecting me to sacrifice the rest of my life because your son died.”
The words hit me so hard I had to sit down.
“Those are your daughters.”
“I know.”
“Then come home.”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“Kayla.”
She exhaled impatiently.
“I want a better life. I’m twenty-four. I could still remarry. I could meet someone successful. Someone who can give me the life I should’ve had.”
I stared at the bassinets.
“And Jennifer and Lizzie?”
“They’ll be better with you.”
“No.”
I stood again.
“You do not get to decide that in the middle of the night from wherever you are.”
“You’ve always wanted to be involved.”
“Involved is not the same as becoming their mother.”
“Well…”
She hesitated only briefly.
