I press my finger into the edge of the muffin, watching it crumble and the sugar crystals fall off, while I gather my thoughts. I can trust him with this. “I can’t tell them I lied about having a boyfriend. We don’t have a terrible relationship, but we’re not... close. If I say I lied to them, they’ll think I’m being dishonest about other things too, and they’ll question my ability to take care of May.”

“You’ve been taking care of her almost her whole life,” Travis points out.

Looking up at him, I find myself getting lost in his eyes again. He’s such a good guy, despite the grumpy front. If only I could say I was dating someone like him, that might be enough to convince Elise and Grant I’ve got my shit together.

Okay, getting sidetracked.

“Do you know how May became my daughter?” I ask. I may not talk about it much, but I’ve known Travis a damn long time. It must have come up at least once, or he would have heard it around town.

“Her mom was your friend, right?” he says gently.

“Yeah. April was my best friend. She got pregnant really young, but she was so excited to be a mom. She swore she’d have the kind of relationship with her daughter that she never had with her own mom.”

“She didn’t get along with her parents?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Anyway, when she found out she was sick, she told me she wanted me to adopt May. She didn’t want her parents raising her. And I didn’t understand why she thought I could do a better job raising a kid at twenty-one than they could, but she said she knew I’d do an amazing job, and that...”

When I get choked up and can’t go on, Travis waits. He nudges the muffin toward me again, so I break off another small piece and pop it in my mouth, still not really able to taste it.

“April told me that May was going to need me, but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted me to take her. She knew I’d need May too. She didn’t want me to be alone once she was gone.”

After I spill that truth, I’m afraid to look at him. Because how pathetic is that?

May has turned into this awesome young person. She’s smart and funny and kind. And she’s totally self-sufficient. Most days she’s the one making sure I’ve remembered to have dinner or do laundry.

April was right.

But I shouldn’t need my daughter more than she needs me.