“Of course.

Convenience earns her a permanent place.

And I have to earn mine over again every single week.”

Chapter 4 — The Nights I Sat By His Bed

What made it unbearable — what has always made that kind of thing unbearable — was that I had loved that boy.

I remembered Tristan at eight years old, waking in the middle of the night crying because he missed his mother, and I remembered sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark for hours, night after night, until his breathing slowed and he finally slept.

I had not done it because it was my duty.