People Get Mad Annabel. Its Not The

I Wasn’t Ready To Think About The Other Yet: That It Wasn’t That I Wasn’t Right For Macon, But That Maybe He Wasn’t Right For Me. There Was A Difference. Even For Someone Who Things Didn’t Come Easy For, Someone Like Me.

Growing Up Means :propelling Yourself Forward Into Whatever Lies Ahead, One Turn Of The Wheel At A Time.

If Nothing Else, Now We Knew Where To Find Each Other, Even If Only Time Would Tell If Either Of Us Would Ever Come Looking.

Everything, In The End, Comes Down To Timing. One Second, One Minute, One Hour Could Make All The Difference.

So Say I’m Your Mom.' 'what?' I Said. 'i’m Your Mom,' He Repeated. 'now Tell Me You Want To Quit Modeling.' I Could Feel Myself Blushing. 'i Can’t Do That,' I Said. 'why Not?' He Asked. 'is It So Hard To Believe? You Think I’m Not A Good Role-player?' 'no,' I Said. 'it’s Just–' 'because I Am. Everyone Wanted Me To Be Their Mother In Group.' I Just Looked At Him. 'i Just… It’s Weird.' 'no, It’s Hard. But Not Impossible. Just Try It.' A Week Earlier, I Hadn’t Even Known What Color His Eyes Were. Now, We Were Family. At Least Temporarily.