God, the words shredded like razors, bringing raw pain, but I appreciated that it was the first time she’d told me the truth. All my suspicions had been right. But I despised what my daughter believed of me, when I knew inside I was different. I’d just kept to myself, believing she would never want to know who I really was. What my dreams or fears were. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“It was another reason I didn’t want to have a traditional marriage. I was terrified if I had a child with a man, I’d be the one to give up my career. I’d be the one left behind and end up like you. So I created and controlled my own world, where I was a single mom with all the power and I’d bow to no one. It seemed perfect.”

“Was it?”

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “I ended up doing the same thing as Daddy. I let you raise Allegra while I mocked what you were. Meanwhile, you both have this amazing relationship and I have to start over. Because I chose wrong. I failed.”

I refused to let her believe she wasn’t a good mother, because it wasn’t true. “Don’t put that on yourself, Francesca,” I said firmly. “There’s enough maternal guilt in the world to swallow you whole. You’ll never win that game because there are only losers. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. You doted on Allegra. She was your life and I was the witness. I may have babysat her during the day, but you were up for every late-night feeding and every nightmare. You grew your business while you juggled sports and teacher meetings and supervised sleepovers with her friends. Don’t you dare tell me you failed. You raised a strong, beautiful young woman with dreams. She’s not afraid to think big and go after what she wants. That wasn’t me, sweetheart. That was all you. It was only when she got older that you believed it was better to pull back, because that’s what you always needed from me. But you’re brave enough to admit when you’re wrong and to try to change. That’s what you’re doing on this trip and I see it—the trust building between the two of you more every day. It’s not about how many times we fail, Frannie. It’s how many times we recognize it and change. It’s how many times we try to do better.”