Everyone called me crazy for marrying a 60-year-old woman,” but on our wedding night, I saw a mark on her shoulder

shaking my head violently. “No, no, no. This is a sick joke. You’re… you’re trying to tell me you’re my mother? That’s impossible! You’re sixty! My mother would be forty-five today! The math doesn’t even make sense!”

“Because I am not your mother, Travis,” Eleanor said, her eyes locking onto mine with a desperate, burning intensity. “I am her older continue reading …