“Give her to me.”
Her face went pale.
“Sally, I was only—”
“Give me my daughter.”
She handed her over.
I settled Cecelia against my chest.
“You will never say that in front of her again.”
“She’s a baby.”
“She won’t always be.”
Violet’s eyes filled.
Then she looked at Cecelia.
“You still have something of him.”
There it was again.
That wound she kept touching.
“You wake up every morning and see him in her,” Violet whispered. “What do I have?”
I stared at her.
Then I said the words I had been carrying for weeks.
“Me.”
She froze.
“You had me.”
Her face crumpled.
“I loved you too, Violet.”
She covered her mouth.
“You lost your son, but I didn’t stop being your family when Mark died.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“You’ve spent weeks making me the enemy because blaming me is easier than accepting that Mark made a choice you couldn’t control.”
