“I know.”
“No. You had two years to stop being afraid, and you chose yourself every single day.”
Suzanne flinched. “I confronted Marla. She begged me not to tell. And I let her. I told myself I was protecting Lizzy, but I was protecting myself. Marla comes around sometimes.”
My throat burned. “While I buried my daughter in my head every night.”
“I found the altered record.”
Suzanne’s eyes filled. “Yes. And my fear cost you your daughter.”
I turned to Marla, my voice thick with anger. “You took my daughter from me.”
Her lower lip shook. “It was chaos, Phoebe. I made a mistake. And instead of fixing it, I lied. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
We stood in the morning sun, the truth between us at last, with witnesses all around and nothing left to hide.
My vision blurred. “You let me mourn my child for six years. And you let me do it while she was alive.”
Suzanne stepped closer, her face twisting in pain. “I love her. I’m not her mother, not really, but I couldn’t let go. I’m sorry, Phoebe. I’m so, so sorry.”
