Chapter 36
Jeremiah
Iwas standing outside a strip mall, juggling three packages and trying to find a pen that actually worked, when my phone rang. The ringtone was Theo’s—I’d set it to some classical piece he’d hummed one evening while cooking.
The sound made me smile.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I answered, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder while I continued my search for functional writing implements. “How’s our dragon princess handling court? Did she charm the judge into—”
“Jer.” His voice cut through my cheerful rambling like a blade.
It was barely above a whisper, tight with panic and something else I couldn’t identify. “Jer, something’s wrong. Something’s really, really wrong.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
The packages slipped from my hands, scattering across the sidewalk, but I didn’t move to pick them up.
“Talk to me. What happened? Are you okay? Is Debbie—”
“She’s fine. We’re okay. Jer, her aunt showed up. She just . . . she burst into the courtroom with a lawyer and . . . and . . .”
His words came in a rush, tumbling over each other in hushed panic I’d never known capable from such a put-together guy. I could hear the echo of voices in the background, the hollow acoustics of what I assumed was a courthouse hallway.
“Slow down, baby. Take a breath. Tell me what happened.”
“She’s trying to stop the adoption. She said . . . she said things about us. About you being there. About our ‘lifestyle’ and how it’s inappropriate for children and . . .”
My blood turned to ice water in my veins.
“She what?”
“The judge recessed for lunch, but, Jer, she knows about us. They all know now. Somehow she found out about us, and she’s using it against me. Against us. She’s trying to take Debbie away.”
The words were a freight train carrying a cargo load of pure terror.
Someone was trying to take Debbie.
Away from Theo.
Away from us.
And it was my fault.
The thought slammed into me with sickening clarity.
This was happening because of me, because I’d pushed my way into their lives, because I couldn’t just be satisfied with casual dating, because I had to fall in love and want more and need to be part of their family.
If I’d stayed away, if I’d never shown up at Theo’s door with Chinese food and Disney movies and declarations of love, none of this would be happening. Theo and Debbie would have had their quiet adoption ceremony this morning. They’d be celebrating right now instead of fighting for their lives.
I was a complication.
I was the “inappropriate influence” the aunt was talking about.
I was the reason some stranger thought she could waltz in and destroy everything Theo had built.
What kind of selfish asshole was I?
What kind of man inserted himself into a father-daughter relationship and then put them at risk?
I should have known this could happen.
I should have been smarter, more careful, should have kept my distance until after the adoption was final.
But no, I had to have it all. I had to have the family and the love and the happily ever after, and now Debbie might pay the price for my selfishness.
My mind went completely blank.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Today was supposed to be a celebration, a formality, the legal stamp on something that was already true.
It was supposed to be the day Theo could finally stop worrying, could finally breathe easy knowing that no one could ever question his right to be Debbie’s father.
Instead, someone was using me—us—as a weapon.
“Jer? Are you there? Please say something. I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose her. I can’t—”
His voice broke, dissolving into something that sounded dangerously close to panic, and I realized he was waiting for me to say something wise or comforting or helpful. He needed me to be strong, to have answers, to know what to do.
But I had nothing.
I’d never been the person someone leaned on during a crisis. I was the guy you called to help move furniture or fix a leaky faucet or reach something on a high shelf.
I wasn’t the person you turned to when your world was falling apart.
What did I know about legal battles or custody fights or protecting the people you loved from systems designed to tear families apart?
What did I know about anything that really mattered?
“I’m here,” I managed, though my voice sounded foreign to my own ears. “I’m here, Theo.”
“Sarah says we have a good case, that Linda has no standing, that she can’t just show up after four years and make demands; but Jer, what if she’s wrong? What if they decide that Debbie would be better off with a ‘traditional’ family? What if—”
“Stop.” The word came out sharper than I intended, and I heard his sharp intake of breath through the phone.
I forced myself to lower my voice, to find some semblance of calm even though my heart was hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
“Stop spiraling. You’re scaring yourself with what-ifs. ”
“But what if—”
“No.” I pressed my free hand against my forehead, trying to think through the maelstrom that was threatening to overwhelm us both.
“Theo, listen to me. You are an incredible father. Debbie loves you more than anything in this world. You’ve given her four years of stability and happiness and love. No judge is going to ignore that.”
“You don’t know that.”
He was right.
I didn’t know that.
I didn’t know anything about how courts worked or what judges considered or whether love was enough when faced with prejudice and legal technicalities.
But I knew Theo.
And I knew Debbie.
I knew what they meant to each other.
And I knew what they meant to me.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “I don’t know that, but I know you, and I know that little girl in there who calls you daddy and trusts you with her whole heart.
I know that you’ve been everything to her for four years, and I know that no biological aunt who couldn’t be bothered to call on her birthday is going to change that. ”
“But what if it doesn’t matter? What if the law doesn’t care about love or stability or—”
“Then we’ll fight.” The words came out of nowhere, surprising us both. “Whatever happens in there, we’ll figure it out. We’ll get the best lawyers, we’ll appeal, we’ll do whatever it takes; but Theo, you’re not alone in this. You’re not facing this by yourself.”
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing and the distant murmur of courthouse activity.
“I’m scared,” he whispered finally, and the raw vulnerability in his voice nearly undid me. “I’m so scared, Jer.”
I closed my eyes, leaning back against the brick wall of the building, trying to find words that would matter, that would help, that would somehow make this nightmare less terrifying.
I thought about morning coffee with Mrs. Chen, about her stories of forty-three years with Harold and her regret over all the time they’d wasted being afraid.
Then I thought about the rhythm we’d built over the past weeks—the three of us on the couch, Debbie’s laughter, the way Theo looked at me like I was something precious.
I thought about family, and what it meant, and how sometimes love had to be stronger than fear.
“I’ll be here,” I said, and somehow the words felt solid and true, like a promise I could actually keep. “By your side, no matter what. Whatever happens in that courtroom, whatever comes next, I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, all three of us. Always.”
I heard his breath hitch, then a long, shaky exhale.
“Okay,” he said, and his voice was steadier now, quieter but less frantic. “Okay.”
“Go back in there and show them what an amazing father you are. Show them what Debbie already knows—that she’s exactly where she belongs.”
“What if I mess it up? What if I say the wrong thing?”
“Just be yourself. Be the man who makes pancakes shaped like dragons and reads bedtime stories with different voices for every character. Be the dad who teaches his five-year-old that dragon princesses are stronger than regular princesses. Be the person who loves that little girl enough to fight for her.”
Another pause, and when he spoke again, something like determination crept back into his voice.
“I love you,” he said. “God, Jer, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, both of you. Now go show that courtroom what family really looks like.”
The line went quiet, and it took forever before I realized he’d hung up.
I stood there for what felt like forever, staring at my phone, packages still scattered around my feet, evidence of the moment everything had changed.
Then I bent down and started gathering them up, my hands steadier than they had any right to be.
I had deliveries to finish.
But more importantly, I had a family to get home to, whatever shape that family took when the day was over.
Because one thing I knew for certain—no absent aunt and no prejudiced legal system was going to tear apart what we’d built.
Not without a fight.
Not while I still had breath in my body.