“Why?” she asked, and I could tell the question had aged with her, moved houses, changed names, but essentially remained the same.

“Because you matter,” I said simply. “Because someone saw me once and it changed everything I thought about myself. You looked like you needed reminding.”

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, careful not to smear mascara she either wasn’t wearing or had cried off hours ago. “I’m Savannah,” she said at last, voice steadier. “This is Ethan.”

“I’m Claire.” I crouched to peek at Ethan, who obligingly grinned gummy and dimpled. He had the kind of face that made my ovaries remember themselves. “And he is… perfection.”