Chapter 35
Theo
The alarm went off at six-thirty, but I’d been awake since four, staring at the ceiling and running through every way this day could go wrong. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a beehive, and my hands shook from the moment I’d opened my eyes.
It was adoption day.
The day Debbie would officially, legally, permanently become mine.
The day no one could ever question my right to be her father.
If everything went according to plan.
I rolled out of bed and padded to the kitchen, where I’d already laid out Debbie’s outfit the night before: her favorite “Sunday dress” with the purple flowers, tights that didn’t have holes in them, and the black patent leather shoes she’d declared to be “very serious.” We’d bought them specifically for this occasion.
My own clothes hung on the bedroom door—my best suit, the one I’d worn to exactly three events in the past four years, each of them involving lawyers or social workers or other official people who held Debbie’s future in their hands.
The coffee maker gurgled to life as I stood at the kitchen window and watched the sun creep over the horizon. I found myself wishing Jeremiah were here instead of at his own apartment. I knew he was probably getting ready for work and pretending not to be as nervous as I was.
As much as we both hated it, we’d agreed he shouldn’t come to the hearing.
Georgia was still Georgia.
While the social workers and case managers had been supportive throughout the process, walking into a conservative courtroom with my boyfriend felt like an unnecessary risk.
Better to keep things simple, traditional, focused on what everyone could agree on: that Debbie and I were already a family in every way that mattered.
But God, I wished he were here.
“Daddy?” Debbie’s voice drifted from her bedroom, followed by the sound of her feet hitting the floor. “Is it dragon princess day?”
I smiled despite my nerves.
That’s what she’d taken to calling this day—dragon princess day—because apparently being adopted was very similar to being crowned royalty in a fairy tale kingdom.
“Yes, it’s dragon princess day, Button,” I called back. “Come on, let’s get you ready for your coronation.”
She appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing her dinosaur pajamas and bedhead that defied several laws of physics.
“Is Willie Wee coming to watch me become a princess? He calls me princess already, so he should be there when I get my crown.”
My stomach clenched.
We’d had this conversation multiple times over the past week, but she kept forgetting— or, more likely, hoping the answer would change.
“Remember what we talked about? Willie Wee has to work today, but he’ll be here when we get home to celebrate with us.”
Her face fell slightly, but she nodded. “Can we call him after the judge does his thing?”
“It’ll be the very first thing we do,” I promised, lifting her onto the counter so I could start the complex process of taming her hair.
As I worked detangler through her impossible knots, she chattered about the dragon princess story we’d been building together over the past few weeks. I figured it was her way of processing what adoption really meant.
“So after the judge gives me the magic crown, I’ll really be Princess Debbie forever and always?”
“Forever and always,” I confirmed, sectioning her hair for braids. “No one will ever be able to take that away from you.”
“And you’ll be my daddy forever and always, too?”
“Forever and always.”
“Even when I’m old, like Mrs. Chen?”
I chuckled. “Even when you’re older than Mrs. Chen.”
She giggled at the impossibility of that, then grew serious again. “Daddy?”
“Yes, Button?”
“What if the judge doesn’t like me?”
My hands stilled in her hair. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“What if he thinks I’m too loud or too wiggly or I ask too many questions? What if he says I can’t be your princess?”
The pure vulnerability in her voice nearly undid me.
I set down the brush and turned her to face me, her small hands resting on my shoulders.
“Debbie, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The judge isn’t deciding if you’re good enough to be my daughter.
You’re already my daughter, in here.” I tapped her chest over her heart.
“And in here.” I tapped my own. “The judge is just making it official on paper. Like . . . like putting a stamp on something that’s already true. ”
“But what if—”
I covered her mouth with a forefinger and shook my head firmly. “No what-ifs today, okay? Today is about celebrating our family, you and me, that we choose each other, every single day.”
She nodded solemnly, then brightened. “And Willie Wee chooses us, too?”
That darn frog caught in my throat again. “I think so, sweetie, yes. Willie Wee chooses us, too.”
An hour later, we were dressed and ready, though I’d had to redo my tie three times because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Debbie looked like a tiny businesswoman in her flower dress and serious shoes, her hair braided into two perfect plaits that had taken me forty-five minutes to achieve.
“Do I look like a princess?” she asked, spinning in front of the hallway mirror.
“You look like the most beautiful dragon princess who ever lived,” I said, and meant every word.
The drive to the courthouse felt both endless and far too short. Debbie sang songs from Frozen while I gripped the steering wheel and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
This is just a formality, I told myself. You’ve jumped through every hoop, answered every question, passed every inspection. This is your day.
But as we pulled into the courthouse parking lot, all-too-familiar anxiety crept up my spine.
What if something goes wrong?
What if I missed some piece of paperwork, some requirement that threw a wrench into everything?
What if—
“Daddy, your hands are doing the shaky thing again.”
I looked down to find my fingers trembling against the steering wheel. “Sorry, Button. Daddy’s just excited.”
“Me, too! This is the best day ever!”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I felt some of my tension ease as we walked hand in hand up the courthouse steps. The building was imposing in that way all government buildings were designed to be, slathered in marble and authority and hushed echoes.
Our attorney, Sarah Morrison, was waiting for us in the lobby.
She was a kind woman in her fifties who specialized in adoption cases and had walked us through every step of this years-long process with patience and expertise.
She’d been there when I first took Debbie in, when I first became her guardian, and she would stand by me today when I finally became her father.
“Ready for this?” she asked, though her smile was warm and reassuring.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.
“And how about you, Miss Debbie? Ready to talk to the judge?”
Debbie nodded enthusiastically. “I practiced with Daddy and Willie Wee. I know all my answers.”
Sarah’s eyes flicked to mine with a question I couldn’t quite read, but she just smiled. “Perfect. Let’s go make this official.”
The courtroom was smaller than I expected.
Wood paneling covered everything, making the space feel formal but not intimidating.
Judge Patricia Williams would sit behind her brass nameplate and monstrous bench.
According to Sarah, she was a woman in her sixties with silver hair and kind eyes who’d built a reputation for being fair but thorough in family court matters.
We took our seats at the petitioner’s table, and I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin.
This was it.
The moment we’d been building toward since I first held a squirming little girl in my arms and fell in love.
“All rise,” the bailiff announced as Judge Williams entered.
The proceedings began with the usual formalities—case numbers and legal language that washed over me like background noise while my heart hammered against my ribs. Sarah handled most of the talking, presenting our case with the efficiency of someone who’d done this hundreds of times.
Then Judge Williams looked directly at me.
“Mr. Jamison, please rise and approach the bench.”
My legs felt unsteady as I stood and walked forward, acutely aware of Debbie’s eyes on me from her seat by Sarah.
“Mr. Jamison, you’ve been Deborah’s legal guardian for four years. Can you tell me why you’re seeking to formalize this relationship through adoption?”
The words I’d practiced vanished from my brain.
All I could think about was the truth—raw and simple and overwhelming.
“Because she’s my daughter, Your Honor. Not because of paperwork or legal guardianship, but because .
. . because I can’t imagine my life without her.
She’s the best part of every day, the reason I get up in the morning, the reason I want to be a better person.
I want to adopt her because I want the world to know what’s already true—that we’re a family. ”
Judge Williams nodded, her expression neutral but not unkind. “And Deborah, please approach the bench.”
Debbie practically bounced out of her seat, her serious shoes clicking against the marble floor as she made her way to the front of the courtroom.
The bailiff brought over a small step stool so she could see over the witness stand, and she climbed up with the confidence of someone who’d never met a stage she couldn’t command.
“Good morning, Miss Deborah,” Judge Williams said, her tone warming considerably and a matronly smile crawling across her lips. “You look very nice today.”
“Thank you! Daddy helped me with my hair, but I picked out the dress because it has flowers and flowers are happy.”
The judge’s smile twitched, and I swear, her eyes sparkled with amusement. “They certainly are. Now, Miss Deborah, do you understand why we’re here today?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re here so you can make me Daddy’s dragon princess forever and always.”
“Dragon princess?”
I cleared my throat and began to explain, but Judge Williams silenced me with a raised palm, her eyes never leaving Debbie’s.