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“You can add new parts, baby,” she imagined Maggie saying. “But you can’t lose the parts of you that were already there.”
Heartbreak was never cured; it just went into remission. And here it came roaring back, leaving her feverish and weak and unable to move in the bright afternoon sun.
Because people saw what they wanted to, expected to, and so rarely what was.
Seventeen, and she’d already had a baby and lost it. Seventeen, and for a moment, they’d been co-creators of a life that was nothing but the two of them together, all their own, something no one else could touch. And now it was gone.
