Epilogue
Jeremiah
Iwasn’t entirely sure how I found myself standing on the cold marble floors of the Fulton County Courthouse. My palms were sweating, and my heart hammered against my ribs in a rhythm that was becoming painfully familiar.
The bustle of attorneys with their briefcases hurrying past and the grinding of the legal system’s daily machinery should have been background noise, but today every click of heels and every rustle of papers felt magnified.
Beside me, Theo fidgeted with his tie—the same navy blue one he’d worn to Debbie’s adoption hearing—while his other hand failed to smooth down his hair in a nervous gesture I’d grown to find both endearing and slightly concerning when it appeared more than once every thirty seconds.
In contrast to her adults, Debbie was completely undaunted.
She stood between us wearing her best dress and her signature dragon tiara, which had somehow become her official “important occasions” headwear.
She was humming a mashup of “Let It Go” and the wedding march while practicing her curtsy, apparently under the impression that courthouse appearances were basically the American version of royal presentations.
“Do you think the judge will remember you?” I asked quietly, reaching up and adjusting his tie for the fifteenth time in five minutes.
“She’s not going to forget the dragon princess who reorganized her entire courtroom protocol,” he said, watching Debbie demonstrate the proper scepter-holding technique using an imaginary object. “Plus, the judge specifically requested a photo last time. I think we made an impression.”
“Debbie’s aunt sure did,” I muttered, not intending to be heard but earning a head nod from Theo.
The clock on the wall ticked with the kind of deliberate slowness that suggested it was personally invested in prolonging our anxiety. After a million ticks, a bailiff appeared and called out, “Mikel, Courtroom Number Four.”
My stomach did a complicated flip that would have impressed Olympic gymnasts.
We followed the bailiff down the hallway to the same courtroom where Theo’s legal claim to Debbie had been challenged and ultimately affirmed.
Judge Williams was wrapping up the previous hearing, her voice carrying the same blend of authority and warmth Theo had described months ago; so we settled onto the wooden bench, Debbie whispering loudly enough for half the courtroom to hear, “Daddy, when do I get to talk to the judge? I have important things to tell her about dragon protocol.”
“We’ll see, Button,” Theo whispered back. “Let’s just follow the judge’s lead, okay?”
The previous case concluded, and suddenly it was our turn. The clerk called our names, and we approached the petitioner’s table with a mix of nervousness and hope that had been threaded throughout this whole process.
Judge Williams looked up from her paperwork, and her face broke into a broad smile.
“Well, well,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “If it isn’t my favorite dragon princess and her guardians. How are we doing today, Miss Deborah?”
Debbie straightened in her chair, her tiara catching the courtroom lights. “Very well, Your Honor. I brought my tiara because this is a very important day for dragonkind.”
“I can see that. It’s beautiful. Very . . . regal.”
The judge turned her attention to a folder filled with paperwork handed to her by a clerk with the bored efficiency of a man who’d done this more times than he could remember.
“Mr. Jamison.” Judge Williams finally peered above her reading glasses without lifting her head and addressed Theo. “I need to confirm your consent to Mr. Mikel’s petition for adoption of the minor child Deborah Sarah Jamison.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Absolutely yes. One hundred percent yes. I consent completely, judge,” Theo said, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands.
“Jeremiah has been Debbie’s ‘other’ father in every way that matters since we became a family.
Today makes everything official and gives our daughter security, should something happen to me. ”
Judge Williams made a note, scanned a document, then removed her glasses, sat back, and looked at me. “Mr. Mikel, do you understand the responsibilities and commitments you’re undertaking with this adoption?”
“I do, Your Honor.” The words came out more confidently than I’d expected. “I’ve been living those responsibilities and commitments for nearly a year. Debbie is my daughter in my heart, and I want her to be my daughter in the eyes of the world as well.”
Another nod.
Another scribble.
“And Miss Deborah,” Judge Williams said, leaning over her bench to better make eye contact with our little monster, “how do you feel about Mr. Jeremiah becoming your legal father?”
Debbie hopped out of her chair and scooted around the table to stand before the bench.
When she spoke, she did so with the gravity of someone delivering a royal decree.
“Your Honor, Willie Wee has been my daddy for a really long time already. He makes even better pancakes than my other daddy and knows all the words to the princess songs . . . oh, and he promised to teach me how to throw a curveball when I’m older.
Plus, he loves me and Daddy a whole bunch, and we love him back so much it hurts.
So yes, I think it’s a really good idea. ”
Judge Williams was clearly fighting back a chuckle. “That sounds like excellent reasoning to me.”
She straightened the papers before her and looked at all three of us with an expression that reminded me of Mrs. Chen when she was about to say something that would make us cry happy tears.
“You know,” she said, her voice taking on a more personal tone, “I’ve been presiding over family court cases for nearly twenty years, and I’ve seen all kinds of families come through these doors.
Traditional families, blended families, families formed by choice rather than biology, and many, many more.
What I’ve learned is that the best families—the ones that really work—aren’t defined by how they’re structured; they’re defined by how much love lives inside them. ”
She paused, looking between Theo and me.
“You two gentlemen have built something beautiful. You’ve taken a child who had already experienced loss and helped her believe in love and security again.
You’ve created a home where she can be exactly who she is—dragon tiara and all—and feel completely accepted and cherished.
In this Court’s opinion, that’s what family should look like. The rest are just details.”
My vision blurred, and I felt Theo’s hand grip mine under the table.
“Therefore,” Judge Williams continued, her voice becoming formal again, “by the power vested in me by the State of Georgia, I hereby grant the petition for adoption. Jeremiah Mikel, you are now the legal father of Deborah Sarah Jamison, with all the rights and responsibilities that entails. May you serve the Dragon Princess well.”
The gavel came down with finality.
Suddenly, the air felt different.
Lighter.
More complete.
Debbie cheered and launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug that nearly knocked me over while her tiny lips pelted my neck with so many feather kisses they tickled.
“Now I really have two daddies! For real and forever!”
“For real and forever,” I confirmed, my voice almost as shattered as my heart.
“Mr. Mikel—or should I say, Daddy Mikel,” Judge Williams said with a warm smile, “congratulations. You realize what this means, don’t you?”
“Um, no ma’am. What’s that, Your Honor?”
“We have to take another photo, this time all four of us. It’s a tradition, after all.”
Five minutes later, we were arranged behind Judge Williams’s bench for what was apparently becoming the courthouse’s most elaborate photo session. Debbie had somehow convinced the judge to let her hold the gavel again, which she wielded like a scepter while perched on the judge’s chair.
As the bailiff snapped pictures on my phone, then Theo’s, then the judge’s, those assembled and waiting for their respective cases applauded. A few whistled. One woman in the back bawled so loudly she had to leave to gather herself.
“Now remember, Your Honor,” Debbie said seriously as the bailiff finished the last of the photos, “when you’re in the presence of a dragon princess, you have to sit up very straight and look very important. Dragons respect proper posture.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Judge Williams replied, adjusting her posture with mock solemnity. “Anything else I should know about dragon princess protocol?”
“Well, you should never interrupt when a dragon princess is speaking, you should always compliment her tiara, and if she offers to share her treasure with you, that means she really likes you.”
“Those sound like excellent rules, very similar to rules for judges and courtrooms.”
Behind Debbie, Theo and I flanked the judge’s chair. Our fingers intertwined naturally, the same way they had that first night on his couch, the same way they had during every moment of joy and worry and ordinary Tuesday evenings since then.
I cleared my throat and caught Theo’s eye.
He was looking at me with the same expression I’d seen on Shane’s and Mateo’s faces during their wedding ceremony, the same one we’d shared during our wedding a few months ago—pure joy mixed with overwhelming gratitude and the quiet confidence that came from knowing you were exactly where you belonged.
We were husbands now.
Partners.
Parents.
Legally, officially, permanently.
We were a family in every sense of the word.
As we gathered our things and prepared to leave, Judge Williams pulled me aside.
“Mr. Mikel,” she said quietly, “I want you to know that in all my years on the bench, I’ve rarely seen a family that so clearly belongs together. That little girl is lucky to have two fathers who love her so completely, and you’re lucky to have found each other.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. I know you’re right, and it means everything.”
“Take care of them,” she said, glancing toward Theo and Debbie.
“Always,” I promised. “For the rest of my life.”
We walked out of the courthouse and into the bright Georgia sunshine, Debbie skipping between us and chattering about how we needed to call Mrs. Chen and Mrs. H and everyone else to tell them the good news.
I realized, in that simple, blissful moment, that this was what happily ever after actually looked like.
It was a perfect beginning.
Our future was going to include dragon tiaras and bagpipe concerts. We’d see middle school plays, attend countless soccer games, and I’d have to scare more than a few young men into good behavior.
Debbie would have more aunts and uncles than most children could fathom, and with them would come the most delightful forms of chaos and insanity and laughter.
We would grow closer, our bonds deepening, as life filled in the gaps and cemented our hearts together forever.
And for that very special delivery, I couldn’t wait.