“That’s not a hill I plan to die on, believe me.” She taps a manicured nailagainst her button nose. “He can call Wren ‘Mom’ and I’ll be ‘Mama.’ Or‘Mommy.’ Or hell, ‘Mother Dearest,’ I dunno. Does it matter? That’s asmall detail.”
“So our farce will hinge on an infant’s ability to distinguish betweenMother and Mama. ‘Solid bones,’ my ass, Bee. You expect us all to live alie?”
Her eyes flash to mine, feisty as ever. “How is it any different from whatyou and I are doing now?”
“You and I have known each other our entire lives!” I remind her harshly.“We’re as good as family. Wren is a wild card who might want more forherself than to lie to dangerous men for the rest of her days.”
“It won’t be for the rest of her days. Just until m
