She shook her head, still laughing.
Then she looked at me with an expression that made the humor drain slowly from my chest.
“I missed this.”
“What?”
“Laughing without feeling guilty about it.”
I set the plate down.
“You don’t have to earn the right to be happy, Sarah.”
She stared at me for a moment.
Then she looked away.
“I wish I’d understood that sooner.”
I wanted to tell her that she still had time.
I wanted to tell her that she deserved better than the life she had been given.
Instead, I handed her another plate.
“Careful. If you keep laughing at my jokes, you’ll encourage me.”
She smiled.
“Don’t worry. I have excellent self-control.”
“Your face suggests otherwise.”
She splashed a little water at me.
I stepped back, laughing.
And for a few ridiculous seconds, we were simply two people having fun in a kitchen.
Neither of us was thinking about betrayal, property documents, or the daughter who had brought us into each other’s lives in the worst possible way.
