Chapter 10
Six months later.
Lily was nine months old. She was crawling everywhere, pulling herself up on the furniture, saying “mama” and “dada” and “papa” (her word for Richard). The cut on her neck was a faint, thin line, barely visible unless you knew it was there. My palm had a scar too, a reminder of that night in the cabin. I didn’t mind it. It was proof I’d fought for my baby and won.
We’d settled into a rhythm.
Ethan and I were still living in the house, co-parenting, separate bedrooms. We’d gotten the annulment finalized in the spring. It was sad, but it was right. We loved each other, but not as husband and wife anymore. As brother and sister. As friends. As partners in raising the best little girl in the world.
We went to therapy every week. It helped. We talked about the trauma. About the stairs. About the cabin. About what it meant to be siblings who’d once been married. It was messy. It was hard. But it was working.
Richard had moved into the guest house in our backyard. He was there every morning to make breakfast, every night to read Lily a bedtime story. He’d started a foundation in my mom’s name, helping single mothers and kids who’d grown up without knowing their parents. He was making amends. One day at a time.
Jade had gotten engaged to her girlfriend, Mia—yes, Nurse Mia, who’d brought me the video that day in the hospital. They were planning a fall wedding in the backyard. Lily was going to be the flower girl.
Margaret was in maximum security prison, serving a twenty-five-year sentence. She wrote me a letter every week. I never opened them. I threw them straight in the trash. She didn’t deserve my time. She didn’t deserve anything from me.
Life was good.
Quiet.
Calm.
One Saturday in July, we had a barbecue in the backyard. Jade and Mia were there. Richard was grilling burgers. Ethan was chasing Lily around the yard, her laughing so hard she could barely breathe. I sat on the porch swing, drinking iced tea, watching them.
My phone buzzed.
A reporter from the New York Times. They wanted to do a follow-up story. A “where are they now” piece. They wanted to interview me, Ethan, Lily, everyone.
I stared at the phone for a second.
Then I hit delete.
I didn’t need to tell our story again. The world already knew. The important parts, anyway. The rest was ours.
I put the phone down and walked out into the yard. Lily saw me and came crawling as fast as she could, pulling herself up on my legs, holding her arms up. I picked her up, kissing her chubby cheeks.
Ethan walked over, wiping sweat from his forehead. He smiled at me. The same smile I’d fallen in love with. The same smile we both shared, thanks to the dad standing by the grill.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he said.
I looked around the yard. At Richard laughing as Jade stole a burger off the grill. At Mia taking photos of Lily. At the big oak tree in the corner, the one we were going to hang a swing from for Lily.
At the family I’d built. Not the one I’d been born into. Not the one I’d married into. The one I’d fought for. The one I’d almost lost a dozen times.
“I was just thinking,” I said, bouncing Lily on my hip. “About how lucky we are.”
Ethan nodded. He looked at Lily, his eyes soft.
“We are,” he said. “Despite everything.”
Lily grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, giggling. I laughed, untangling her fingers.
For so long, I’d thought family was about blood. About the name you were given. About the people you were related to.
I’d been wrong.
Family was the people who showed up when the world was falling apart. Who held your hand when you were scared. Who fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself.
Family was Jade, showing up at the hospital with a court order and a plan.
Family was Richard, doing everything he could to make up for the years he’d missed.
Family was Ethan, standing beside me through every nightmare, choosing Lily and me over and over again, even when it was hard.
Family was Lily. Perfect, fierce, wonderful Lily. The little girl who’d survived it all. Who’d brought us all together.
I kissed the top of her head.
The sun was setting, painting the sky pink and purple. The fireflies were starting to come out. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked.
Everything was okay.
May you like
We were okay.
And nothing was ever going to take that away from us again.
