Extraits

“I like your ass.”

“Thanks, baby. It likes you too.”

He snickered and rested his head on my hip.

“Thing is, I don’t understand why we have to glorify raising children. I love my sister beyond words, and we will always be close, but she was by no means easy to take care of. Are children supposed to be? I don’t believe so. What I believe parenthood consists of—at least when the children are young—are sleepless nights, stained clothes, chaos, and occasional headaches. And this doesn’t mean it’s not worth it—the opposite. We love our kids to the point where it’s worth all those sleepless nights and all the anxiety.”

I smiled.

“A toddler smiling and sitting pretty in the cart at the grocery store isn’t proof of good parenting,” Peyton went on. “Same with all the blogs and social media accounts where we get bombarded with pictures of perfection.” Christ. Had he read my mind? “It’s wonderful that we get those memories too, but it’s become a contest to show who’s happiest. Who’s succeeding the most. Meanwhile, the tough moments are hidden away and suppressed. We don’t talk about it, because we’re afraid of being judged.”