8
I was a pretty good mom, it turned out. Three
months later, under my wing, Peter won the
L
I wanted to be a mom again.
8
I was a pretty good mom, it turned out. Three months later, under my wing, Peter won the National Youth Piano Competition. He was a sensation, his talent and good looks making him a viral star. I, his “mom,” was featured prominently in his interviews, the subject of his heartfelt gratitude.
That night, Mrs. Davis called. “Mrs. Morris, I hear you’ve… adopted a son? Is that
appropriate? Master Ethan is quite upset. He had another tantrum.“
Mark’s fury? What did I care? “One hundred sons, you say? Try one thousand,” I retorted to Mrs. Davis.
“Really, Mrs. Morris? Ethan’s really struggling. Amelia seems more annoyed than maternal, and Mr. Morris…well, I saw him looking at your photos last night, in the living room, very late. I think he misses you.”
My stomach churned. “Nothing about that family concerns me anymore, Mrs. Davis. Don’t call with these updates.” I’d drunk the Lethean Elixir. I was done loving them.
