Kayla Milliner

“She chokes up again, but she forces herself onward. “Your dad understood you.” Her voice squeaks, and her shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “He understood the things you love. He understood your sense of humor. He had access to pieces of you I couldn’t get to, and I was okay with that, mostly. But when he died—god, Alice, I haven’t been able to figure out how to be what you need. He always knew the right thing to say to you. He always knew how to cheer you up, or how to talk you down. “And I want to be a good parent to you, but I can’t be him.” “I don’t need you to be him,” I promise tearily. “You deserve to have him,” she says. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished it had been me instead.” “Mom.” My heart cracks, shatters. I wrap my arms around her again. “Don’t say that.”
― Emily Henry, Great Big Beautiful Life