I was running on coffee and guilt and the terror of getting it all wrong.
So when Jenna picked up a hairbrush or signed a permission slip, it felt like a lifeline.
I told myself I’d found a partner for the hardest thing I’d ever do.
What a fool I was.
Last Tuesday, a meeting got canceled, and I came home two hours early.
The moment I stepped through the door, I heard Jenna’s voice from the kitchen.
It wasn’t the sweet voice she used when I was around.
It was ice cold.
“Girls, you are not staying here long. I’m not spending my twenties raising you.”
I froze in the hallway, my keys still in my hand.
“During the adoption interview, you must say you want another family. You say it clearly, or there will be consequences.”
I heard Lily’s small voice start to wobble.
“Don’t you dare cry,” Jenna snapped. “Go do your homework. Hopefully you’ll both be gone soon.”
