“One week?” she asks softly, and I hate the desperation in her eyes; her affection for my mother is strong. I close my own and steady the internal war. I need to relinquish a little over this. I don’t want to push her away, but this is hard.
“Okay … But you come to me in one week and we go from there. You call me every night, Sophie, so I know you’re okay. And no lies!” I am stern.
She snaps up to look at me and we see each other, deeply. She knows that I know she lied for my mother. She forgets I used to do it too. She nods and bites her lip; another teen Emma trait and I wonder if that’s why she keeps her hair tied up away from fidgeting fingers. I sigh at the girl, the shadow of my past, only this one has a chance at being saved.
“Okay.” She finally pouts, and I nod not fully happ
