I laughed too.
“Your cake is still intact.”
“Lemon?”
“Obviously.”
She looked down at the rabbit.
“I think Bunny needs a bath.”
“So… my birthday is going great so far, isn’t it?”
“Bunny needed a bath fifteen years ago.”
She smiled.
Then she took my hand.
For years, I’d told Hope God sent her somewhere I could hear her.
That morning, I understood loving her didn’t mean choosing for her. It meant staying when she chose for herself.
God sent her somewhere I could hear her.
