At My Mother’s Funeral, a Woman Slipped a Baby Into My Arms and Said, ‘She Wanted You to Have Him’
“She trusted you, Nadia,” Brittany said quietly.
Anger bubbled up in me, twisting with confusion.
“Why didn’t you just call? Why ambush me like this?”
“This was the only place you’d have to listen,” Brittany answered. “The only place you wouldn’t just hang up.”
Before I could argue, Aunt Karen stepped between us, her expression stony. “Enough. Not here. We’ll talk at the house.”
“She trusted you, Nadia.”
**
Later, the house buzzed with casseroles and sympathy. Aunt Karen whisked guests in and out, handing out hugs like party favors. I settled on the couch with Lucas, his head heavy against my collarbone.
