Chapter 40
forty
nate
Maya's house was a modest ranch split-level in a neighborhood that screamed "normal suburban family"—basketball hoop in the driveway, bikes scattered on the front lawn, the kind of place where kids could be kids without worry.
I sat in the car for a moment, hands still trembling slightly from the morning's adrenaline crash.
"You ready for this?" Tasha asked, squeezing my hand.
"Are we ever ready to tell an eleven-year-old her life is about to change completely?" I managed a smile. "Again?"
We'd rehearsed this conversation during the drive over. How to explain that the woman who'd tried to take her away was gone forever. How to share the news about the baby. How to gauge her reaction to both pieces of information that would reshape our family.
Maya's mom, Jennifer, answered the door with the harried expression of someone who'd been supervising a sleepover.
"Thank God you're here," she said with a laugh.
"They've been up since six AM making friendship bracelets and planning some elaborate dance routine.
I think they've had enough sugar to power a small city. "
"Sorry," I said automatically. "Paige didn't give you any trouble, did she?"
"Are you kidding? She's an angel. Maya could learn a thing or two about cleaning up after herself." Jennifer called up the stairs. "Paige! Your dad's here!"
The thundering of feet on stairs announced Paige's arrival before we saw her. She appeared at the top of the staircase, hair in a messy braid, wearing the same clothes from yesterday but with the addition of about fifteen friendship bracelets covering both wrists.
"Dad! Tasha!" She bounded down the stairs and launched herself at both of us simultaneously. "We had the BEST time! Maya's mom let us make pancakes and we watched three movies and we stayed up until midnight talking about everything and—"
"Breathe, kiddo," I laughed, catching her in a hug that felt more precious than usual. Twenty-four hours ago, I'd been terrified I might never get to do this again.
"Thank you so much, Jennifer," Tasha said, hefting Paige's overnight bag. "We really appreciate this."
"Anytime. Maya's already asking when Paige can come back." Jennifer grinned. "Fair warning though, they're planning some kind of science experiment for next time. Something involving volcanoes."
"Of course they are," I said, ruffling Paige's hair. "Ready to go home, scientist?"
In the car, Paige chattered nonstop about the sleepover, the movies they'd watched, Maya's older brother's girlfriend, who was "so cool" and had painted their nails. Normal eleven-year-old stuff that felt like the most beautiful sound in the world.
"So," she said as we pulled into our driveway, "what was the grown-up business you had to take care of? Was it boring?"
Tasha and I exchanged glances. Here we went.
"Actually," I said, turning in my seat to face her, "we need to talk to you about something. A couple of things, actually."
Paige's expression immediately shifted to concern. "Am I in trouble? Did someone call about the friendship bracelet incident?"
"The friendship bracelet incident?" Tasha asked.
"Nothing," Paige said quickly. "What did you need to talk about?"
I took a deep breath. "Remember how we talked about your biological mother? How she wanted to meet you?"
Paige's face scrunched up slightly. "The coffee shop lady? The one who didn't know anything about me?"
"Yes. Well, she decided she didn't want to try to be part of your life after all. So that's done. She won't be contacting us anymore."
I waited for the questions. For confusion, or hurt, or curiosity about why Sarah had changed her mind. For some kind of reaction to the fact that her biological mother had just disappeared from her life again.
"Great," Paige said, and immediately pivoted. "So what's the other thing? You said a couple of things."
That was it. No follow-up questions. No interest in details. No apparent emotional investment whatsoever. The person who had tried to tear our family apart had been dismissed with all the consideration Paige might give to a weather forecast.
And for the first time since I’d met Sarah Davis, I believed, truly believed, that Paige was whole, untouched by the storm that nearly tore us apart.
"Well," Tasha said, reaching for my hand, "the other thing is pretty big news."
"Good big or bad big?" Paige asked, her attention fully focused now.
"Very good big," I said. "Tasha's pregnant. You're going to be a big sister."
The silence in the car stretched for exactly three seconds. Then Paige's face exploded into the biggest grin I'd ever seen.
"REALLY?!?" she shrieked, loud enough that I worried about my eardrums. "Really? Really, really? I'm going to have a baby brother or sister?"
"Really, really," Tasha confirmed, laughing at Paige's excitement.
"When? How big is it now? Can I help pick names? Can I help decorate the nursery? Will it be able to share my room? Oh my God, Maya and Zoe are going to be SO jealous!"
The questions tumbled out in a rush, and I felt something that had been wound tight inside me finally release. This was the reaction I'd hoped for but hadn't dared to expect.
"The baby will be here in about seven months," I said. "And yes, you can absolutely help with everything. We're going to need the best big sister in the world."
"I'm going to be the BEST big sister," Paige declared with the confidence only an eleven-year-old could muster. "I'll teach them everything I know about science and books and how to make friendship bracelets and how to avoid getting in trouble for the friendship bracelet incident."
"What exactly was this friendship bracelet incident?" Tasha pressed.
"It's really not important," Paige said airily. "What's important is that I'M GOING TO BE A BIG SISTER!"
She unbuckled her seatbelt and launched herself between our seats to hug us both again, her excitement so pure and infectious that I found myself grinning like an idiot.
"Can we go inside and start planning?" she asked. "I have SO many ideas. And I need to call Grandma Rose, she's going to flip! And Mrs. Swanson! And—"
"Slow down there, kiddo," I laughed. "We've got plenty of time to tell everyone and make plans."
But as we headed into the house, Paige practically bouncing with excitement, I kept waiting for her to circle back to the Sarah conversation. To ask why her biological mother had changed her mind, or what that meant, or how I felt about it.
She never did.
Over the next hour, as we sat around the kitchen table making lists of potential baby names and discussing nursery themes, Sarah Davis never came up once. Not even in passing. It was as if she had never existed, as if that coffee shop meeting had been a minor inconvenience quickly forgotten.
And maybe, for Paige, that's exactly what it was. She had her family. Her real family. What need did she have for anyone else?
"I think we should name the baby something strong," Paige was saying, her notebook already half-filled with possibilities. "Like Alexander if it's a boy, or Diana if it's a girl. Oh! Or we could do a science name! Like Newton! Or Curie!"
"Curie Crawford?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It has a nice ring to it," Paige said seriously.
Tasha was laughing so hard she could barely speak. "Maybe we should stick to more traditional names for the first name and save the science names for middle names."
"Fine," Paige sighed dramatically. "But I get to help pick the middle name, right?"
"Absolutely," I promised.
As the afternoon wore on, I marveled at how natural this felt.
The three of us, planning for our growing family, making decisions together.
Paige had already appointed herself Chief Big Sister and was taking the role very seriously, asking practical questions about feeding schedules and diaper changes and whether the baby would need its own night light.
"The baby's going to love having you as a big sister," Tasha told her, and the pride in Paige's face was worth everything we'd been through to get here.
"I'm going to protect them from everything," Paige declared. "Like you protect me, Dad. Nobody's going to hurt our baby."
Our baby. Not "the baby" or "your baby." Our baby.
I caught Tasha's eye across the table and saw the same wonder I was feeling reflected in her expression. This was our family. Messy and complicated and absolutely perfect.
And Sarah Davis, who had tried so hard to destroy it, had been dismissed with a single word: "Great."
Sometimes the most devastating victories were the quietest ones.