Despite everything, she held him with real tenderness.
That complicated the shape of my anger.
It would have been easier if she were only cruel. Easier if Connor were only a villain and Melinda only a thief. But life had never been that clean.
Connor had built a story for both of us. Perhaps for all three of us.
He had told me I was broken.
He had told Melinda I had given up.
He had told himself he deserved whatever he wanted.
“Kirsten,” Melinda whispered, rocking the baby gently, “I swear I didn’t understand what he had done until after I was pregnant.”
My voice came out raw. “And then?”
She closed her eyes.
That was the second answer.
After a long moment, she said, “Then I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of losing him.” She kissed the baby’s hair and looked ashamed before she even finished the sentence. “Of losing the baby. Of admitting what I had done. Of becoming the person I already knew I was.”
