“You’re letting the fairy tales you grew up with cloud your mind. Love isn’t easy. Especially the really good kind. It’s difficult, and you’ll want to rip your hair out just as many days as you’ll feel the wind at your back.” She paused, smiling to herself. “But it’s worth it. It’s worth fighting for. Don’t let what isn’t real blind you to what is. Life isn’t perfect, we aren’t perfect, so why should we expect love to be?”
“I get that, I do. But come on, Mom,” I said, trailing my finger along the rim of my cup. “Love just isn’t enough sometimes.”
“Baby,” she said, looking at me like I’d just said something very immature, “I’d sign my name in blood that it isn’t.”