I felt her stir in me, even then, even on that jet bridge — the reflex to soothe, to problem-solve, to make the pain on the other end of the line stop because I could not stand to be the cause of it.

I understood, standing there, that this reflex was the exact mechanism by which I’d been kept in place for years.

It wasn’t love.

It was a hook set in me so deep I’d mistaken it for my own shape.

And I understood that if I answered it now, I would be teaching my daughters that a mother comes running whenever a man who discarded her decides he’s lonely.

Chapter 15 — The Safety Net