You completely caught me off guard. Here I thought we were having a grown up discussion about preschool options, my recently revived dating life, and your annoyance in attempting to capture the rights to Jenny’s new book.

Had I known it was going to turn into the couch session confessional hour, I would have been more prepared. I was suddenly having flashbacks of us parked in front of Dan Foxworthy as he sized us up behind laced fingers in front of his mouth. 

When you told me you still loved me, I figured you were just waxing nostalgic. I know you missed hanging out with all the girls and your relationship with Henry was partly the reason for that. Let’s face it, I was mostly to blame for that. And in that instant I felt the guilt seeping in.

It wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction to tell you that I love you, too. It’s the truth. You were my first love, T. Not everyone gets over their first. But we had grown apart so much and had battled each other’s demons (and recently) so hard, that my love for you as a person had evolved. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself for now.

Of course, that thought of what could have been will forever haunt the back of my mind if we had been strong enough to weather through our worst of times together. But in a sense, I think we have weathered through them together. I mean, if we hadn’t, I doubt you would be here, sitting in my living room while we talked and watched our daughter finish her breakfast.

I look at her sometimes and I see overwhelming evidence that you are her mother. The little faces she makes when she’s really concentrating on something are the exact facial expressions you have when doing the same thing. You did such a good job, Tina. Angelica is just as beautiful as her birth mother. I could never say enough good things about you two.

As I watched Angie play with her food, you continued to explain the longing to be apart of that entourage we both held so dear to us back when we were “Bette and Tina.” I couldn’t help but feel bad.