That pisses me off. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” she snaps back.
“Yeah, just like I know you would have kept your baby if your man hadn’t turned his back on you,” I shoot back at her.
I regret my words immediately. It was a cheap shot, a low bow, spoken in anger.
She winces, confirming the truth of my assessment, but I still feel like the worst person alive. It’s the lack of sleep and the fear and the fact that maybe Tonya knows more about me than I know about myself right now.
It’s all getting to me.
“Sorry,” I mumble immediately. “That was—”
“Fair,” Tonya mutters. “I hit you, so you hit back. Maybe you’re not such a Pollyanna after all.”
I smile. “High praise, coming from you.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I laugh and after a minute, Tonya starts to laugh, too. The tension
