He had Connor’s eyes.
Maybe mine too.
The thought was unbearable and magnetic at once.
“I don’t know what I want yet,” I said honestly. “I only know what was taken from me.”
Kenneth glanced at me. I knew that honesty would matter later. It mattered now too.
Melinda cried harder.
Connor leaned back, his expression shifting again, searching for a new angle. I had watched him do that for years. When charm failed, he used pity. When pity failed, blame. When blame failed, confusion. When confusion failed, he became the victim.
“You think a judge is going to rip a baby from the only mother he knows?” he said.
Melinda flinched.
I felt the accusation in my chest, because some part of me had already feared it.
