“Your mother tried to prove Mia didn’t belong,” I said. “Instead, everyone had to choose.”
“And?”
“They chose her.”
Thomas let out a slow breath.
“What do you need from me?”
“Back the boundary, Thomas. That’s what we need. That’s what Mia needs.”
“You have my word.”
Later that evening, Mia accidentally dripped barbecue sauce across the purple cover of her handmade book.
“Mom, I ruined it.”
I stopped her before she could wipe it away.
“No.”
“It finally made it to the barbecue.”
She looked around the backyard.
“Do you think Grandma will learn?”
“That’s up to her.”
I wrapped an arm around Mia as Gregory called her back to the grill.
Eleanor had spent years deciding who counted as family.
That night, I stopped letting her make that decision for us.
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