Despite herself, Colette almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
“It does.”
Then the smile disappeared.
“You missed Taryn winning a science competition and pretending it wasn’t a big deal when she came home carrying a trophy almost as big as she was.”
Tears rolled down Colette’s face.
“I know.”
For a moment, I hated how much satisfaction I got from saying those things.
Then I looked through the glass at my daughters.
“I won’t stop them from seeing you.”
Colette nodded.
“They’re adults now. They get to decide what relationship they want with you.”
“Thank you.”
“But I can’t be part of it.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
“I understand.”
“This is probably the last time I’ll see you.”
Her face crumpled slightly.
“I’m sorry, Emmett.”
I believed she meant it.
That still didn’t give me back twelve years.
