Six months after the hearing, Lily found me in the hallway outside Chloe’s room.
She was holding the silver bead that had fallen from her braid the first night she slept there.
“Can I keep this?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She turned it between her fingers.
“Do I have to call you Mom?”
“No.”
“Would it hurt your feelings if I called you Megan?”
“No.”
She looked relieved.
Then she leaned against me for one quiet second before returning to her room.
That was enough.
A few weeks later, Chloe invited Lily to sleep beside her during a thunderstorm.
I found them awake beneath the blankets, whispering and sharing a flashlight.
“Is the bed crowded?” I asked.
Chloe smiled.
“Only because we decided it could be.”
The bed had never been too small.
The truth had simply been forced into it.
