Chapter 34
[Trinity]
Summer moves on, and every day brings us one day closer to Mirabelle’s adoption.
Dart and I fall into a routine. I work. He watches Mirabelle.
One day in August, ten days out from Mirabelle’s adoption date, I’m at work and get a call from the waiting room desk clerk that I have a visitor.
Typically, I have a hint from Dart when he’s about to visit.
A silly text with sexual innuendos about meeting in his truck for meal breaks, me being his meal, which doesn’t happen with Mirabelle present.
I’m surprised to find a young woman seated in the waiting room outside the unit instead.
Strawberry blonde hair. Blue eyes. College age.
“Hello,” I hesitate as she doesn’t look familiar to me.
“Trinity.” My name seems like a relief to her. Slowly, she stands holding out a hand like she’s about to interview for a job. I am no longer in the director of nursing role, nor do I have hiring power. Still, I shake her hand.
She smiles cautiously. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“I’m sorry. Should I?” I question, the fine hairs on my arms rising.
“I’m Marissa Olsen. Mirabelle’s mom.” She swallows thickly. “Well, the woman who had Mirabelle.” The clarification sounds almost as painfully said as her first statement. Mirabelle’s mom. A label on her that feels like someone punched me in the gut.
Sweat trickles down my back, but I’m suddenly cold to the bone.
“Would you like to take a seat?” I point toward the row of green waiting room chairs. I’m not certain we’re allowed to speak to one another, but she looks so young, so fragile.
Marissa shakes her head. “I won’t take much of your time. I just . . . I wanted to know how she is.”
Her concern drops like an anvil on the eggshell of my heart.
A million questions fester fast and furious.
Is she going to contest the adoption? Does she want Mirabelle back?
My knees begin to tremble, and I desperately want to sit down, but if she isn’t willing to take a seat, neither will I.
“She’s . . . she’s wonderful, and beautiful, and perfect in every way,” I admit because I cannot hide the truth. She’s an angel. One I suddenly, overwhelmingly fear might be taken from me. A fear that’s been an undiagnosed nausea in my stomach for weeks.
With shaking fingers, I reach for my phone in my back pocket. “Would you like to see a picture of her?”
Slowly, Marissa shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
My brows squeeze. She wants to check on Mirabelle, but doesn’t want to see her?
Pain slashes the young woman’s face. “I just want to know I made the right decision. Giving her to you.”
I blink. Tears burn at the back of my eyes. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I love her with everything I have.” I clasp my hands and press them to my chest where my heart hammers and my breath saws at my lungs. That nauseous sensation grows more prevalent, and bile tickles the back of my throat.
She nods, as if agreeing love is a good thing.
“I didn’t know you were married.” She glances at my hand, where the rings are still absent from my finger.
How would she have known? Did it even matter? She left Mirabelle with me because of our distant relationship.
However, the courts prefer a couple adopt Mirabelle.
It’s one reason why Dart and I are still married. Why I haven’t demanded we refile for divorce. Which isn’t exactly true, either. But that information isn’t relevant to her.
The most important thing this young woman needs to know is that I am still legally married to Dart.
We hadn’t discussed Dart’s role after the adoption yet. But we’re in bed like a couple every night and working as devoted partners raising Mirabelle every day.
Unless this girl changes her mind. It could happen. The courts will always rule in favor of biology.
“His name is Dart,” I tell her. “He loves Mirabelle as much as I do.” I have no doubt about Dart’s feelings for Mirabelle. What I haven’t considered yet is how he’ll feel once Mirabelle is adopted. Once she’s fully mine.
A tomorrow problem. Or rather, an issue in ten days.
Marissa licks her lips. “Good. That’s good. I want her to have what I had.”
I tilt my head.
“Loving parents.” She blinks hard at the reminder that hers are gone. “A family.”
“I’m sorry you’re alone.” The motherly nature in me has me itching to reach for her.
She shakes her head. “But I’m not, though.” She smiles weakly. “I head back to school soon.” She doesn’t tell me where she attends, and I don’t ask. While I’m well aware of open adoptions, our situation will not be like that. She’s relinquishing all rights.
Which leads me to wonder, again, if she’s changed her mind.
“What are you studying?” I ask, deciding the question is neutral.
“I want to be a lawyer. Like my mom.” Her smile remains soggy. “I think I’ll be good at it.”
“Good.” I struggle to find my own voice. “I’d bet she’d be really proud of you.” Her daughter following in her footsteps.
Marissa glances toward the ground, blinking hard. “One day . . . if she ever asks about me . . . will you tell her I did it for her. I wasn’t being selfish.” She snaps her head up. “I wanted her to have the best.”
Loving parents. A family.
“Of course,” I whisper, my thoughts still a riot of emotion. Unable to stop myself, I rub my hand up and down her arm.
I don’t consider Marissa’s decision selfish. If anything, she’s acting selfless. Giving up a baby must be incredibly difficult, for hard reasons and complicated circumstances, but it’s also a blessing to another couple, another family.
“Anything else?” I hold my breath, still concerned she might change her mind, even though she stands here with her future planned.
She shakes her head, her lip curling timidly. “Just take care of her.”
I nod, offering a shaky smile in return. “And you take care of you, okay?”
She nods once, holds her head higher, and offers a final, sad smile.
As she walks around me, I can’t help but watch her retreat until she enters the elevator. Then, I reach for my phone again and call Dart.
I’m visibly shaking when he cheerfully answers. “Hey, baby.”
“Dart.” I choke on his name.
“What’s wrong?” The joy in his tone instantly drops. “Are you okay?”
“Can you meet me in the parking lot?”
“Trin,” he groans. “You’re scaring me.”
“I just . . . I need to see you.” I need him to hold me and tell me it can’t happen. I can’t lose Mirabelle. We can’t lose her.
“Fuck. What happened?” he repeats.
“I’m okay. I just . . .” I choke around a sob, uncertain if it’s relief or fear or a combination. The nauseous sensation shifts to real concern that I might vomit. “I can explain everything when you get here. I just need you.”
“I’m on my way.” He grunts. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
The nurse manager is understanding when I tell her I’m suddenly not feeling well.
It’s evident I’m shaken by something, and she lets me clock out early.
I wait for Dart near the staff parking, pacing the sidewalk, until I eventually see his truck whip into the lot.
Relief washes over me, although I still clutch at my belly. Hands trembling. Heart sprinting.
When Dart stops alongside me, he bursts out of his door before I can reach for the passenger door. Instantly, I’m in his embrace, my arms around his neck, holding him like I’ll never let go.
“I’m here,” he coos near my ear. “I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t even know what’s happened, and yet, he’s here.
“Get me out of here,” I whimper.
Dart pulls back, scanning my face for a second, before tugging open the passenger door and helping me inside. I immediately swivel toward the backseat, panic momentarily seizing me.
“Where’s Mirabelle?” I spin toward Dart.
“I took her to your mom’s. You sounded . . . I don’t know what you sounded like, but it scared the fuck out of me.”
I take a deep inhale, absorbing the faint scent of comforting pine and asphalt.
Dart runs his hand down the side of my face. His eyes ping over me, concern filling them to the brim.
Once he shuts my door, he rounds the truck and re-enters it. He shifts to Drive and sets his hand on my thigh. Through the thinness of my scrubs, his warmth seeps into my skin. The bone-cold chill is a direct result of the rattle in my nerves.
I grip his wrist, holding onto him like I need the reassurance he’s actually present. He’s here beside me. He’s here because I called him.
“Start talking, Forever.” His tone is terse, full of worry.
“Marissa came to see me.”
His head swivels in my direction, eyes questioning before he glances back at the road.
“Mirabelle’s mom.”
“You’re Mirabelle’s mom.” Razor-sharp and clear, he squeezes my thigh to emphasize his words.
“Her biological one.”
His mouth pops to argue, then snaps shut. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to check on Mirabelle.” Or maybe she just wanted confirmation for herself. For her decision.
Was I overreacting? She didn’t want to see a picture. Didn’t want to know more about Mirabelle. Her height. Her weight. Her development. Her easy personality, already present at nearly five months.
I swipe my other hand over my forehead, noticing the continued tremor in my fingers. “I think . . . I think I just panicked. Like, what if she wants her back?” I turn my head toward Dart. My eyes cloud with the tears I’ve been holding back. Dart blurs in my vision. “What if she takes her from us?”
Suddenly, Dart is pulling off the road. The truck jostles and jolts over a rugged path before he pulls between a set of trees, shielding us from the road.
He cuts the engine, pushes his seat back, and reaches for me all in one smooth move. I’m in his lap before I can process how quickly he moved, clinging to him as hard as he is clutching at me.
“No one is taking her from us. No one.” He sounds so certain and emphasizes every word with an extra squeeze. He pushes me back and cups my face, so I focus on him. Look him in those whiskey-colored eyes.
“Nothing is going to happen to her.” The determination in his tone does little to ease me yet. “To you. To me. To us. I won’t let anything happen to anyone.”