Chapter Forty-ThreeLong Island: Two years ago
Sarah and Derek were having breakfast. Derek had made sunny-side up eggs with toast that Sarah barely tasted. She wasn't eating much these days. A week ago, her brother was thrown from his motorcycle on an L.A. highway and was pronounced dead at the scene. A few days prior to that, her husband of seven years asked her to accept the fact that they wouldn't be having children.
“If you don't eat that, it'll get cold and taste horrid,” Derek said, dipping his toast into the yolk on his plate. “You have to eat, Sarah. Glen wouldn't want you to starve yourself in his memory.”
She looked across at him through teary eyes and wanted to tell him that she wasn't just mourning her brother. She was also mourning the babies she would never have.
“What if
