Emma
"Yes," Lottie swirled her fingers through the bubbles, her voice suddenly small. "But she doesn't like us very much."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"
"She'd yell a lot if we're loud. Or when we wanted to play." Lottie's voice dropped to a whisper. "She says having twins is extra hard, and we make her very tired. She only smiled when Daddy was there."
I watched her little fingers trace patterns in the bubbles, my heart aching. "Did she... did she visit often?"
"Not anymore. She went to France." Lottie's voice dropped to a whisper. "She only comes back sometimes. Like Christmas. But not this Christmas."
The new pain of seeing Lottie's injury mixed with the loss that the twins weren't my babies. Was the birthmark a coincidence?
"Lottie, look
