Chapter 41 Tasha
forty-one
tasha
"So," I said, settling onto Paige's bed as she organized her collection of friendship bracelets by color, "want to go on a girls' day tomorrow? Just you and me?"
Paige looked up from her rainbow array of embroidery floss, eyes lighting up. "Really? What kind of girls' day?"
"I was thinking we could start shopping for baby stuff. Maybe get lunch somewhere fancy, do some planning." I paused, suddenly nervous. "I mean, if you want to. I know you probably have other things you'd rather—"
"Are you kidding?" Paige abandoned her bracelet project entirely, bouncing on her knees.
"I've been waiting my ENTIRE LIFE to go baby shopping!
Can we look at cribs? And those little tiny clothes?
Oh! And car seats! Did you know there are like fifty different kinds of car seats and Dad's probably going to research them for six months? "
I laughed, the nervous flutter in my chest settling. "He's already started. I caught him reading ‘Consumer Reports’ at breakfast."
"Of course he has." Paige rolled her eyes fondly. "He researched my bike helmet for three weeks. Three weeks! For a helmet!"
"Well, safety is important," I said, channeling Nate's earnest tone.
"You're starting to sound like him," Paige grinned. "That's good. Mom-like."
The word hit me like a gentle wave. Mom-like. Not "like a mom" or "motherly"—mom-like. As if being Paige's mom was simply a fact, as natural as breathing.
"Is that okay?" I asked softly. "Me being... mom-like?"
Paige tilted her head, looking at me with that serious expression she got when she was really thinking about something important.
"Tasha, you've been my mom for months. Like, actually my mom.
You came to school when I got my period.
You held my hand at the doctor. You make sure I eat vegetables and help me with homework and sing along to terrible songs in the car.
" She paused. "You love Dad, and you love me, and you're having our baby. That's what moms do."
Actually my mom. The words, so casually delivered, so certain, landed with the force of a physical blow, but the good kind. The kind that rearranges everything inside you for the better.
All my life, I’d been the invisible middle child, the one expected to achieve without needing too much, the one who learned to build walls around her heart because overt emotion was seen as a distraction.
And here was Paige, this incredible kid, not just accepting me, but claiming me.
Defining motherhood not by biology or obligation, but by presence, by care.
By love.
A wave of emotion, so potent it stole my breath, washed over me. It wasn't just gratitude; it was a profound sense of healing, a validation I hadn't known I was starving for. This wasn't just being liked; this was belonging.
This was family.
"I do love you. So much, Paige. More than I ever thought I could love someone else's…" I stopped myself.
"Someone else's what?" Paige asked, but her tone was curious, not hurt.
"I was going to say 'someone else's child,' but that's not right, is it? You're not someone else's child. You're mine. Ours."
"Exactly." Paige flopped back on her pillows with the dramatic flair only eleven-year-olds could manage. "Plus, you're way better at the mom stuff than the coffee shop lady ever would have been. She didn't even know what axolotls were! I mean, come on."
I snorted with laughter. "That is pretty unforgivable."
"Right? And she kept talking about herself. Like, I asked her about sloths, and somehow she made it about her trip to Costa Rica. It was weird." Paige wrinkled her nose. "You always listen to what I'm actually saying."
"Because what you're saying is interesting," I said honestly. "You're brilliant and funny and thoughtful, and I like hearing how your brain works."
Paige beamed at that, then suddenly sat up straight. "Oh! Can we go to that fancy baby store? The one in the mall with all the expensive stuff? I want to see everything. Even if we don't buy anything, I just want to look at all the tiny baby things."
"Absolutely. We'll make a whole day of it."
"And can we get our nails done? Maya's mom took her for a manicure last month and she felt so grown up." Paige examined her currently chipped purple polish. "Maybe something baby-themed? Like pink or blue or yellow?"
"We don't know what we're having yet," I reminded her.
"But we will soon, right? When do you find out?"
"At the next ultrasound. About three weeks." I smiled at her eager expression. "Want to come with us?"
"Can I? Really?" Paige's eyes went wide. "I want to see the baby! Even if it's just a blob! Dad showed me pictures of ultrasounds and they're so cool, like little aliens!"
"I think Dad would love to have you there."
"This is going to be the BEST baby," Paige declared. "I'm going to teach them everything. How to ride a bike, how to make friendship bracelets, all the constellations, the best books to read. Oh! And I can teach them sign language! Maya's learning it in her summer program and it's so cool."
I watched her plan out her future sibling's entire childhood and felt my heart swell almost painfully.
This child who'd been abandoned by one mother had embraced me so completely, so naturally.
She wasn't just accepting me as her father's girlfriend or even as a stepmother—she'd claimed me as her mom, full stop.
"Paige," I said softly, "I need you to know something. Being your mom… it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even better than falling in love with your dad."
"Even better than the baby?"
"The baby is amazing, but you came first. You're the one who taught me I could be a mom.
You're the one who made me want to be part of a family.
" I reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You made me brave enough to love your dad, and you made me believe I deserved to be loved back. "
Paige was quiet for a moment, and I worried I'd said too much, gotten too emotional.
"That's really nice," she said finally. "But also, like, duh. You're awesome. Of course we love you." She grinned. "Plus, you make Dad smile all the time now. Like, all the time. It was getting weird."
I burst out laughing. "Getting weird?"
"He used to be so serious. Like, all the time. Responsible Dad Mode, twenty-four seven. But now he laughs at stupid stuff and sings in the shower and yesterday I caught him dancing while he was making dinner." Paige shuddered dramatically. "Dad dancing, Tasha. It was traumatic."
"I'll talk to him about that," I said solemnly.
"Thank you. Some things children should never have to see."
We dissolved into giggles, and I marveled at how easy this was. How natural it felt to joke and plan and just be with this incredible kid who'd somehow become mine.
"So tomorrow," Paige said, settling back into planning mode, "baby shopping, manicures, fancy lunch. What else?"
"Whatever you want," I said. "It's our day."
"Can we take pictures? For the baby book? I want them to know about all the planning we did before they got here."
"That's a perfect idea."
"And can we buy something little? Like a onesie or a stuffed animal? Something to put in the nursery so it feels real?"
My chest tightened with emotion again. "Absolutely."
"This is going to be so fun," Paige said, already reaching for her phone. "I'm going to text Maya and make her jealous. She doesn't have any baby siblings. All she has is her annoying older brother."
As I watched her type excitedly, sharing our plans with her best friend, I thought about how much my life had changed. A year ago, I'd been focused on my career, keeping people at arm's length, protecting myself from getting too attached to anything or anyone.
Now I was planning a girls' day with my eleven-year-old daughter, preparing to shop for my unborn baby, completely and utterly part of a family that had claimed me as fiercely as I'd claimed them.
"Hey, Tasha?" Paige said, looking up from her phone.
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad Dad found you. Like, really glad."
"Me too, baby girl," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Me too."
And as I kissed her goodnight and headed back to Nate, who was probably researching cribs or strollers or baby-proofing techniques, I realized that I'd never been more grateful for anything in my life.
I'd found my family.
And they'd found me right back.