17. Jade
— ? —
Jade
Sunday mornings have become my favorite. Damian attempts to make waffles - attempts being the key word - while Nova offers increasingly critical supervision.
“Dami, that one’s STUCK.”
“It’s not-” He pries at the waffle iron, which gives up half a waffle. “Okay, it’s a little stuck.”
I watch from the doorway, coffee in hand, heart impossibly full. This is what I dreamed about during those endless nights in prison. Not the big moments, but the small ones. Lopsided waffles and giggling children and a man who looks at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him.
It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.
One ordinary afternoon, I’m cleaning out a closet, trying to make space for Nova’s ever-growing collection of art supplies. I move a box and it tips, spilling papers and photos across the floor in a messy cascade.
“I’ll help!” Nova runs over, already gathering scattered pictures before I can stop her.
Then she freezes. Staring at a photo in her hand.
“What’s this?”
I look. My breath catches.
It’s a photo of me from another lifetime. Nine months pregnant. Glowing. One hand resting on my enormous belly, a smile on my face I barely remember being capable of.
“That’s me,” I say carefully, kneeling down beside her. “When you were in my tummy.”
Nova stares at the image, her small brow furrowed. “I was in there?”
“For nine whole months. You grew from something tiny - smaller than a grape - into a whole baby. I could feel you kicking and hiccupping and doing somersaults.”
She looks through more photos, handling them with the careful reverence of someone discovering treasure. Me in the hospital bed, exhausted but radiant. Holding a tiny newborn with a red, scrunched face and a shocking amount of dark hair.
“Is that... me?”
“That’s you. Right after you were born. You were so tiny, barely six pounds. But you had the strongest grip. You grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go.”
“You’re crying in this one,” she says, pointing to a photo where tears are streaming down my face as I cradle her against my chest.
“Happy tears,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion. “That was the happiest day of my life. The day I met you.”
Nova looks up at me, confusion clouding her features.
“But Mommy Vivi said you didn’t want me. That you went away because you didn’t want to be my mommy. That she had to take care of me because you wouldn’t.”
The words hit like blows, but I keep my voice steady.
“That’s not true, baby.” I kneel down so I’m at her level and take her small hands in mine. “That was a lie. I wanted you more than anything in the whole world.”
“Then why did you go away?”
I take a breath. This is the moment I’ve been dreading and hoping for in equal measure. The moment I have to explain the unexplainable to a child who deserves so much better than the truth I have to offer.
“Someone told lies about me,” I say slowly, choosing my words with care. “Bad lies. And because of those lies, I had to go away, not because I wanted to, but because they made me. I didn’t have a choice. And I cried every single day because I missed you so much.”
“Every day?”
“Every single one. I thought about you when I woke up. I thought about you when I went to sleep. You were the only thing that kept me going through the darkest times. The hope that someday, somehow, I would find my way back to you.”
Nova is quiet for a long moment, processing this in the serious way children have when they’re trying to understand something too big for them.
“So... you always wanted me?”
I’m crying now. Can’t help it. The tears spill over and run down my cheeks, and I don’t try to hide them.
“More than anything in the whole world. From the moment I knew you existed. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and losing you was the worst. And getting you back...” I have to stop, gather myself. “Getting you back is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Nova looks at the photos again. At baby-her cradled in my arms. At the tears of joy on my face.
“You look really happy,” she whispers.
“I was. I was so happy, Nova. Having you was everything I ever wanted.”
She sets down the photos. Climbs into my lap. Wraps her small arms around my neck and holds on tight.
I hold her back, sobbing into her hair, four years of grief and longing finally finding release.
“I’m sorry I believed the lies,” she whispers.
“That’s not your fault, baby. None of this is your fault. You were just a little girl, and the grown-ups in your life failed you. I’m the one who should be sorry - sorry that I couldn’t protect you, sorry that you had to go through any of this.”
She pulls back and looks at me with those serious eyes, my eyes, I realize. She has my eyes.
“I think I want to call you something different,” she says.
My breath catches. “What do you mean?”
“Instead of Jade. I want to call you...” She hesitates, suddenly shy, twisting her fingers together. “Is it okay if I call you Mommy?”
I break.
Full sobbing. Nodding frantically because words won’t come. I pull her back into my arms and hold her so tight, crying and laughing at the same time.
“Yes, baby. Yes. That’s more than okay. That’s everything. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She smiles against my shoulder. The biggest smile I’ve ever felt from her.
“Okay, Mommy.”
Mommy. The word washes over me like warm water, like sunlight, like coming home after a long journey. Four years of waiting. Four years of dreaming. And finally - finally - I hear it.
That evening, after Nova is asleep, I find Damian on the balcony, looking out at the city lights.
“She called me Mommy.”
He turns, and his whole face softens when he sees mine. “I told you it would happen.”
He cups my face in his hands and kisses me softly.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too.”
***
Damian
I’ve been carrying the ring for three weeks.
Three weeks of waiting for the perfect moment. Three weeks of reaching into my pocket, feeling the velvet box, and chickening out.
Not now. She’s stressed about the trial.
Not now. Nova had a bad day.
Not now. She’s finally sleeping well and I don’t want to add pressure.
There’s always an excuse. Always a reason to wait.
But tonight, watching her tuck Nova in, listening to my daughter - because that’s what Nova is now, my daughter - call her Mommy for the first time... something shifts.
I’m done waiting.
I find her on the balcony after Nova falls asleep. She’s staring at the city lights, wrapped in a blanket, looking more at peace than I’ve ever seen her.
“Hey.” I step up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist. “You okay?”
“More than okay.” She leans back against my chest. “I still can’t believe she called me Mommy.”
“I heard.” I press a kiss to her hair. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been holding my breath for five years and I can finally exhale.” She turns in my arms, looking up at me. “Is this real? This life we’re building? Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and be back in that cell.”
“It’s real.” I cup her face, make her look at me. “This is real. Nova is real. I’m real.”
“I know. I just-” She shakes her head. “I’m not used to being happy. I keep waiting for something to go wrong.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. But I can promise something else.”
She tilts her head, curious. “What?”
My heart is pounding. My palms are sweating. This is it.
“I can promise that no matter what happens - good or bad, easy or hard - you won’t face it alone.” I reach into my pocket. Pull out the velvet box. “I can promise that I’ll be beside you, every single day, for the rest of our lives.”
Her eyes go wide. Her breath catches.
“Damian-”
I drop to one knee.
“Jade.” My voice is steady, even though my hands are shaking.
“I’ve loved you for five years. I’ve fought for you.
I’ve waited for you. I’ve dreamed about a future with you when everyone else said it was impossible.
” I open the box. The ring catches the moonlight, simple, elegant, perfect.
“But I’m done dreaming. I want the reality.
I want lazy Sunday mornings and lopsided waffles and fights about nothing and making up after.
I want to watch you be Nova’s mother. I want to give you more children.
I want to grow old with you and still think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. ”
She’s crying now. Silent tears streaming down her face.
“Marry me,” I say. “Let me spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice. Let me be your husband. Let me be Nova’s father. Let me give you the family you deserve.”
She stares at the ring. At me. At the life I’m offering.
“Yes.”
The word comes out choked. Barely audible.
“What was that?” I’m grinning now, tears pricking my own eyes. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
She laughs through her tears. “YES. Yes, you idiot. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly - I may have snuck one of her other rings to the jeweler weeks ago.
Then I’m on my feet, and she’s in my arms, and I’m kissing her like my life depends on it.
“I love you,” she says against my mouth.
“I love you more.”
“Not possible.”
I pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist.
“Let me prove it,” I say, carrying her toward the bedroom.
“The ring-”
“Will still be there in the morning.” I kick the bedroom door shut behind us. “Right now, I need to celebrate with my fiancée.”
“Fiancée.” She grins. “I like the sound of that.”
“You’re going to like the sound of ‘wife’ even better.”
“Prove it.”
I do.
Several times.
***
Jade
He lifts me and I wrap my legs around him. We make it to the bed eventually, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind us.
It’s different this time. Celebratory. Joyful. We’re laughing and moaning and whispering “I love you” between kisses, giddy with happiness and desire and the promise of forever.
When I come, his name is on my lips. When he follows, mine is on his.
We collapse together, breathless and tangled and completely happy.
“We’re getting married,” I whisper into the darkness.
“We’re getting married,” he confirms.
“Nova is going to be so excited.”
“She’s going to demand to be the flower girl.”
“Obviously. And she’ll probably try to plan the whole wedding herself.”
We laugh, holding each other close, and fall asleep tangled together.
Morning light streams through the curtains.
Nova bursts into the room without warning, a small tornado of energy and bedhead. “Mommy! Dami! Wake up!”
She stops when she sees us, then giggles. “You guys are SNUGGLING.”
“Come snuggle with us,” I say, holding out my arm.
She launches herself onto the bed and wiggles between us, warm and solid and real.
“Guess what?” Damian says, propping himself up on one elbow.
“What?”
“I asked your Mommy to marry me.”
Nova’s eyes go huge. “You’re getting MARRIED?! Like a princess wedding?!”
“Whatever kind of wedding you want, sweetheart.”
“Can I be the flower girl? Please please please?”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She throws her arms around both of us, squeezing as tight as her small arms can manage. “This is the BEST DAY EVER! This means you’ll be my Papa Dami!”
“Yes I will,” he says, and his voice is rough with emotion.
I look at Damian over Nova’s head. He’s smiling - that rare, beautiful smile that transforms his whole face, the one he saves for moments like this.
Yeah, I think. It really is the best day ever.