Who we were as women couldn’t be more different and, sadly, that was something I’d come to take pride in. In the end, I had matured into her spitting image aside from the style of our hair and the color of my eyes. ![]() And her way with men, how they looked at her and catered to her … well, I’d wanted that magic touch of hers, too. I tried to emulate her breathy voice and sensual mannerisms, certain my mother was the most gorgeous and perfect woman in the world. I spent hours dressing up in her clothes, stumbling around in her heels, smearing my face with her expensive creams and cosmetics. ![]() Once, I had wanted to grow up to be just like my mother. “A bump that had you avoiding him for days? That’s not the way to deal with your problems, Eva.”
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