time.
“Her eyes,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“I want to talk to her.” She swallowed. “I don’t know what I’ll say.”
“You can start there.”
She rested her hand over mine.
“Are you okay with that?”
“You don’t need my permission, sweetheart.”
I squeezed her fingers.
“But yes. I’ll help however you want.”
PART 8: What We Could Still Choose
Before I left, Rebecca asked me to send her Anna’s number.
I did it while we were still sitting together. I didn’t ask her to wait until the grief was easier or the timing felt right. There had already been too much waiting.
On the drive home, I pulled into a rest stop and called Anna.
“She knows,” I said.
I heard her take a shaky breath.
“How is she?”
“Hurt. Confused. She’s trying to take it in.”
“Of course.”
“She wants to speak to you.”
Anna went quiet. Then
