“Stay out of this.”
Gloria pointed one finger at him.
“You should be praying I stay out of it.”
She helped me into her SUV.
As she closed my door, Daniel called after me.
“Don’t come back here.”
I looked through the window at the man I had married.
Then I said quietly:
“I won’t.”
Part Two — The Ring
My daughter was born fourteen hours later.
Five pounds and nine ounces.
Healthy lungs.
Dark hair.
And a grip surprisingly strong for someone who had existed outside my body for less than five minutes.
The nurses placed her against my chest.
I cried.
Not because Daniel wasn’t there.
At least, not entirely.
I cried because suddenly I understood how much of my life I had spent trying to convince adults to love me correctly.
My daughter had been alive for seconds.
And loving her required no negotiation.
“What are we calling her?” the nurse asked.
Daniel and I had never agreed.
