Chapter 35 Sloane
SLOANE
I feel like a beached whale, no matter how many times Tucker tells me I’m more like Noah’s Ark. But the babies are healthy and almost grown enough to safely exit the womb.
It took some patience getting used to Tucker’s family underfoot.
Virtual therapy has helped a lot–Tucker’s cousin Odin hooked us up with a couples counselor who seems like an oracle.
I’ve learned that when Mr. Stag showers me with gifts or Aunt Alice brings an entire restaurant for us to taste, that this is them expressing their love for Tucker and for anyone Tucker loves.
This family just really is that tight.
I hear the elevator doors open, and Judge’s voice calls out, "Sloane? It's me!"
"Hey!" I call back, adjusting the pillows behind me for the thousandth time today. There's no comfortable position when your body is full of active watermelons.
Tucker’s mom appears in the doorway, smiling brightly and emanating a delightful aroma. “Chicken pho coming up! With lime and basil.”
My eyes actually water. "You're a saint."
"I'm a judge who knows how to delegate takeout to my staff." She sets up the food on the overbed table. "How are you feeling today?"
"Huge. Uncomfortable. Grateful." I accept the container of soup, breathing in the steam. "Your son has been... he's been amazing."
"He's happy." She settles into the chair Tucker usually occupies, the one with the permanent imprint of his body. "He’s really coming into himself."
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, slurping our soup. Judge has this way of being present without being overwhelming—something I'm learning runs in the family, once you get past the initial tsunami of Stag-thusiasm.
“I think about your work a lot,” I say, rubbing my stomach. “Family court … kids removed from their parents.”
She nods. “Nearly thirty years on the bench now. It was once me on the other side, and I bring that experience with me to every case.”
"Do you..." I pause, finding the words. "Do you ever feel like you're making a difference? Like the system actually works?"
Her expression grows serious. "The system is broken in a thousand ways.
But yes, I think I make a difference. Not by fixing the system—that's beyond any one person—but by building support structures into my rulings.
Making sure kids have what they need. Holding parents accountable while also giving them resources. "
"That's what I want to do." The admission comes easily. "Not the legal side, but the policy side. Building those support structures so families don't fall through the cracks."
"You will." Judge’s certainty is absolute. "Your research project—Tucker showed me the abstract. Sloane, that's exactly the kind of work that changes things. You're going to be incredible in this field."
Something in my chest loosens. "I spent so many years having adults tell me what I couldn't do.
My mother, my ex-husband. They had opinions about my capacity, my choices, my future.
" I touch my grandmother's necklace—the sun pendant Tucker returned to me.
"My grandmother Essie believed I could be anything I wanted. Even if she wasn’t sure how to make it happen. "
"And now?" she asks gently.
"Now I feel like I’m on the roundabout road toward a goal." I laugh a little, watery. "It's overwhelming and wonderful and terrifying."
Judge Juniper grins. "You’re working so hard."
I set down my soup container. "I never had this before. People who just... show up. No conditions, no judgments. Just love."
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "You're family now, Sloane. That means you're stuck with us."
"I'm starting to think that's not such a bad thing."
As she gathers her things, I can tell she wants to say something but is holding back. “What is it?” I bite my lip, still uncertain about how to think of her, what to call her. Tucker’s parents have been so wonderful and I am working on relaxing into their informal way of being.
Judge looks at me, eyes watery, smiling. “I am just really glad you’re here with us.”
Something warm and pleasant blooms in my chest. “I’m glad, too…Juniper.” I grin and she leans in for a hug, which I return to the best of my ability from my position lying down with an entire globe jutting from my middle.
After Juniper leaves, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about family and futures. The babies are doing their afternoon gymnastics routine, little feet and elbows poking out at odd angles. I rest my hand on my belly, feeling them move.
"We need to give you actual names, huh?" I murmur. "Can't keep calling you 'the girls' forever."
Tucker and I have been circling around names for weeks, but nothing felt right. He suggests options, asks my opinion, and tries to find something meaningful. And then we can never decide.
More and more, I find myself wanting to do something special for him, to thank him for his patience with me, for the love he’s teaching me to accept. As I digest the food his mother brought for lunch, I realize what I can do to stoke this fragile fire we’ve ignited together.
The names we give these girls should mean something, honor the full span of their heritage. An hour later, I've made my decision.
My heart pounds as I finally make a purchase with my own credit cards–a custom art project that should arrive this afternoon if I pay a steep enough rush fee. Which I happily do.
The afternoon drags after my shopping spree. I try to focus on reading for my last class, but my eyes keep drifting to the clock. The babies seem to sense my anticipation, kicking and rolling constantly.
"Your daddy's going to be excited," I tell them. "At least, I hope he will. If he doesn't, blame it on pregnancy hormones."
Finally, blessedly, I hear the elevator. Tucker's voice booms through the apartment: "WHERE ARE MY GIRLS?"
"Bedroom!" I call back, grinning despite my nerves. As if we’d be anywhere else.
He appears in the doorway, looking sexy in a T-shirt and sweats, hair damp from a shower. His face lights up when he sees me. "Hey, beautiful."
"Hey, yourself." I twirl a curl around my finger. “Did you bring up the packages from the lobby?”
“You know I did!” He holds up a finger, ducks out of the doorway, and returns holding a crate. "What's all this?"
"Open it." I pat the bed beside me. "Sit down first."
Tucker kicks off his shoes and settles next to me carefully, mindful of my massive belly. He examines the note on the crate. "This is from a frame shop."
"Open it," I repeat, my heart hammering.
He pries open the lid and pulls out two wooden frames. They're simple, elegant, and natural wood with white matting. And in the center of each, in beautiful calligraphy:
Shula Juniper Stag
Aurora Estelle Stag
Tucker goes completely still. His eyes move from one frame to the other, reading and rereading the names.
"Shula for fire, for passion," I say quietly. "Juniper for your mother, who's shown me what it means to be a strong woman and a loving parent. Aurora for new beginnings, for light. And Estelle—that was my grandmother's full name. Essie was short for Estelle."
Tucker's hands shake. My massive baby daddy sets the frames down carefully on the bedside table and covers his face with his hands.
"Tucker?" I touch his shoulder. "Are you okay? If you don't like the names, we can—"
"They're perfect." His voice cracks. He drops his hands, and I see tears streaming down his face. "Sloane, they're perfect. But you... you gave them my last name."
"Well, we're a family, aren't we?"
That does it. Tucker completely breaks down, pulling me as close as he can with my belly between us, sobbing into my shoulder. His whole body shakes with it—this huge, tough enforcer reduced to tears by two picture frames.
"I love you," he chokes out. "God, Sloane, I love you so much."
"I love you too." I stroke his hair, my own tears falling. "I'm all in, Tucker. With you, with your family—our family. With everything. I'm not going anywhere."
"You named our daughter after my mom."
"She's incredible. And Shula Juniper Stag sounds strong. Like she'll be able to handle anything." I rest my hand on my belly. "And Aurora Estelle Stag sounds wise. Like she'll know who she is."
Tucker pulls back to look at me, his face blotchy and wet. "You really want them to be Stags?"
"I want us to be a family. However, that looks. Whether we get married or not, whether—"
"We're getting married," Tucker interrupts firmly. "I mean, if you want to. When you're ready. I'm going to ask you properly, with a ring and everything, but Sloane—yes. We're getting married."
I laugh through my tears. "You're proposing by telling me you're going to propose?"
"I'm telling you I'm all in too." He cradles my face in his hands. "You're it for me. You and Shula and Aurora. That's my family. That's everything."
"Even though I’m cranky and can't have sex because my blood pressure might spike?"
"Especially then." He kisses me softly. "Although I'm not going to lie, I'm really looking forward to when Dr. Patel clears us for activities again."
"Me too," I admit. "But for now, this is enough. You're enough."
We sit like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, hands intertwined over our daughters.
"Oh!" Tucker suddenly pulls away. "I almost forgot." He reaches for the mail he'd tossed on the bed. "This came too."
He hands me an invitation to a holiday celebration. I glance at the details. “You know we can’t go to your family’s ski house for Christmas. Well. I can’t go.”
Tucker grins. “I know you can’t, and I’ll be right here with you. Because my entire family–every last Stag–is going to the mountains for three entire days.”
I meet his eyes. “So, it’ll just be us for Christmas?”
He nods. “No chaos. No crowds. No hockey travel, thanks to Pete and Mel. Just me and my girl and our precarious fetuses.”
I spurt out a laugh and reach for Tucker. He leans close and kisses me—deep and thorough and full of promise. "You're really okay with all of us? My huge family, the Sunday dinners, the constant opinions about everything?"
"I'm more than okay with it." I think about Juniper this afternoon, about Ty's visits, about the entire Stag support system that's been quietly surrounding me.
"For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to have a family.
Not just people related by blood, but people who show up.
Who support me. Who love me without conditions. "
"That's what you're giving Shula and Aurora," Tucker says softly. "They're going to grow up surrounded by that. Because of you."
"Because of us." I correct. "We're doing this together."
The babies choose that moment to do a particularly strong series of kicks, making my whole belly shift. Tucker's hand immediately goes to the spot, his face lighting up.
"Hey there, Shula," he murmurs. "Hey, Aurora. Your mama just made me the happiest guy in the world. Again."
I watch him talk to our daughters, this man who swam up to me in a pool full of swagger and changed everything. Who fought for me even when I pushed him away. Who gave me space to be myself while making room for me in his life.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
Tucker looks up. "For what?"
"For seeing me. For not trying to change me, control me, or make me smaller. For making space for me to be Sloane while also being your partner and their mother."
"That's just loving you," Tucker says simply. "You don't have to shrink to fit. You just have to be you."
"I'm so glad I hit on you in that pool."
"Best decision you ever made." He grins and kisses my cheek. "Sunshine, the moment I saw you, I was calculating every possible way to spend more time with you." He kisses my belly, first one side, then the other. "Even if it meant infuriating my coach and risking my career."
"You really did that."
"I really did." He meets my eyes. "And I'd do it again. Every time. You three are worth everything."
Tucker settles beside me, carefully arranging us so I'm comfortable against his chest. His hand rests on my belly, right where our daughters are tumbling around. "Shula Juniper Stag and Aurora Estelle Stag. Our family."
"Our family," I repeat, and finally—finally—I let myself believe it.
Not just that I can be a mother, but that I can be a mother without losing myself.
That I can accept help without becoming dependent.
That I can love Tucker and his extensive family while still being Sloane Campbell, with her own dreams and goals.
I think my checklist is just about complete, because this is about as serene a moment as I can imagine.
"I can't wait to meet them," Tucker murmurs.
"Me neither." I yawn, suddenly exhausted. "Although I could wait a couple more weeks. Let them finish cooking."
"Rest, Sunshine." He pulls the blanket up over both of us. "I've got you."
And as I drift off to sleep, surrounded by my partner and the steady beat of my daughters' hearts, I think: This is it. This is everything I never knew I wanted.
A family. A home. A future full of love.