saying it.
I sat there among the letters and asked the first honest question I had asked in almost a year.
“Tell me how not to scare her.”
Liam’s voice softened.
“Start by not making the first sentence about you.”
The next morning, he gave me the address.
John drove. I held Livia’s letter the entire way.
Natalie opened the door before I could knock twice.
“Camila,” she said.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
Old anger rose in me.
“You had no right.”
Natalie stayed in the doorway.
“Your daughter was eighteen,
