“I was wrong.”
“Yes,” I said. “You were.”
She laughed a little. A wet, broken laugh.
“Is it too late?” she asked. “For me? Is it too late to be… anything?”
I looked out at the dark fields. At the white lights of the barn twinkling through the windows. At
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my daughter’s silhouette, laughing as Owen smeared cake on her nose.Order Sweet Treats
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “That’s up to Hannah. Not me.”
“But if I tried?”
“Then you’d have to tell her the truth,” I said. “All of it. No more stories. No more roses. And you’d have to show up. Not for the dress fittings and the cake tastings. For the boring days. The hard days. The days nobody’s taking pictures.”
Crystal was quiet for a long time.
“That’s what you did,” she said. “Isn’t it? For twenty-one years.”
