Chapter 28
Maddie
The kitchen counter looks like a war table. Lists, Post-its, two different colored pens, and the kind of obsessive energy only a first birthday party can stir. Plates, napkins, balloons, a grocery order for a cake big enough to feed an army.
And that’s what it’s starting to feel like—an army.
Because apparently the entire Titans’ organization is coming. Players, wives, girlfriends, kids. A few staff. Brienne Freaking Norcross.
My stomach knots every time I think about it.
It’s not that I don’t want people celebrating Grayce. She deserves every banner, every balloon, every present, every piece of cake she might want to smoosh all over her face.
What scares me is the weight of so many eyes—curious, maybe judgmental, all peering in on the fragile little family Atlas and I have stitched together.
It feels like hosting a gala with my whole heart on display.
I’d cancel it if I could, but the invitations went out long before Atlas confessed his love and made things so messy.
Back then, we were just co-parents and the idea of a big celebration for Grayce sounded perfect.
Now I’m wondering if I can fake the flu to get out of it.
I tell myself to focus on the practical so I can stop worrying about the impractical.
The party is tomorrow, and I have everything in hand.
Atlas is in Detroit for game four against the Cardinals and he’ll fly back to Pittsburgh tonight.
The Titans lost game three in Detroit, and I know Atlas is under a lot of stress, so I assured him I have everything in hand.
In fact, that’s all we’ve talked about since his big proclamation. We’ve talked only about Grayce and the party and nothing personal. It’s just the facts and there’s no bantering or teasing. I hate it.
Quit thinking about it, I scold myself.
I pull a notebook across the table and check off completed items. Streamers ordered, favors bagged, juice boxes chilled.
But the more I add to the lists, the more I feel like I’m trying to control the uncontrollable.
Trying to make sure not one thing looks out of place, so no one can see how out of place I sometimes feel.
By ten thirty the house is silent. Grayce is down for a nap and the only sound is the occasional crackle from the monitor.
There’s really nothing else I can do until this afternoon when I have to pick up the cake.
I’ve finished all my outstanding reports to the other caseworkers back in Chicago and the house is spotless.
I’m restless, too wound up to sit still. I’ve got to occupy my mind or all I’ll do is think about Atlas and how cowardly I’m feeling.
With a sigh, I head into the living room and flop onto the couch. I open my laptop, meaning to check one more detail on the party spreadsheet, and instead my eyes snag on a folder I haven’t touched in weeks.
Gray—Videos.
My chest squeezes. I’d promised myself I’d get them organized, labeled and stored for Grayce to have when she’s older. Gray put so much effort into making an unforgettable library of advice for his little girl and it was perhaps the most loving thing I’ve ever seen a person do.
But every time I’ve tried to look at these, I’ve drowned in grief. Right now though, I need something that isn’t lists and paper plates.
I click the folder.
The files appear, neat little lines marching down the screen.
Grayce_Newborn.
Grayce_6months.
Grayce_FirstLaugh.
Each one a tiny piece of Gray, a person I thought I’d have forever. My throat burns as my eyes rove over the MP4s until my gaze snags on one near the bottom.
Grayce_1stBirthday.
My breath hitches. This is the one Atlas and I will show her tomorrow. After all the party guests are gone, we’ll put her in front of the TV with us, and we’ll have her watch the very first video of her father speaking from beyond the grave.
I press play, eager to see what words of wisdom he memorialized for her.
Gray fills the screen, sitting on the old plaid couch in the living room, light streaming behind him.
His hair’s a little too long, his eyes bright but tired, his smile crooked as always.
This was before the rapid decline and he still had some color in his face, although he was way too thin from all the chemotherapy.
“If you’re watching this, peanut,” he says, leaning closer to the camera, “it means you’re one today. Probably running circles around your mom by now.” He chuckles, shakes his head. “She might tell you she’s not your mom yet, but don’t believe her. She always has been.”
My hand flies to my mouth as tears prick at my eyes, then leak like a dam being opened.
Gray picks up a stuffed elephant, flops its ears. “This was your favorite. Maybe it isn’t anymore. Maybe by the time you see this, you’ve moved on to ponies or robots or, God help us, hockey sticks. That’s okay. You keep moving forward. That’s the job of kids—keep growing.”
He leans back, voice softening. “You are so loved, Grayce. More than you’ll ever know. That’s one thing you never need to doubt. I’m just really sorry I can’t be there with you to celebrate, but please always hold me in your heart. If you do that, I’ll never be far away. I love you.”
The screen goes dark.
I sit frozen, tears streaming hot and silent. I replay his words in my head. She might tell you she’s not your mom yet, but don’t believe her.
I swipe at my cheeks and curse Gray for making me lose my shit in the middle of the day, but secretly, I know Grayce will cherish these for the rest of her life.
I sniffle and wipe at stray tears, scrolling through the files to see what else might be there. My cursor stutters when I see it.
Maddie_WhenYouNeedItMost.mp4.
My lungs seize.
And right below it: Atlas_WhenYouDoubtYourself.mp4.
My head spins.
Gray didn’t just make messages for Grayce.
He made them for us too.
I click mine before I lose my nerve, and Gray’s face fills the screen again, softer this time, like he’s settled in for a serious conversation.
This is near the end. He looks like a skeleton, cheeks sunken, but he was still strong enough to sit up in bed.
“If you’re watching this, Maddie, then I guess it means life pushed you to a hard place.
” He scootches up on the mattress, coughs wetly and then sucks in a breath, eyes locked on the lens.
“So here’s what I need you to remember. You were our constant.
Through every appointment, every late-night panic, every diaper blowout—you were the one holding us together.
You’re the bravest person I know, and I also know right now, you’re probably shaking your head. ”
My eyes bug out because I am indeed shaking my head.
Gray pauses dramatically, as if he knew I’d be battling with that statement, then continues. “You’re brave even when you don’t feel brave.”
My throat tightens, a sob clawing free.
“But I know you have fears. I know you so well. There will come a time when it will get the best of you and you’ll want to pull back when things are going way too well.
When that happens, I hope you pull up this video.
” He looks sternly at the camera. “That’s your old wiring talking.
That’s the false voice that says good things don’t last. But Maddie?
Stability isn’t the absence of risk. It’s wisely choosing the things that are good for you, despite the risk. ”
I’m shaking now, the words hammering into every locked place in me.
Gray smiles, a little crooked. “It’s my greatest hope that you and Atlas learned how to become friends and learned how to depend on each other.
I hope you’ve figured out by now you can trust him.
That man shows up, and he’ll always have your back, same as he had mine.
You might not believe me now, but one day you’ll see it—he’s as loyal and dedicated as they come. ”
My hand clamps over my mouth, sob muffled.
“You don’t owe the past your future,” he finishes, eyes fierce.
“When you’re scared, love anyway. That’s the bravest thing you could possibly do.
And it’s not just about doing this for yourself.
I need you to show Grayce how to be brave.
Don’t let her get jaded the way you can be.
Show her that people are good and love can be kind, okay?
Do that for me?” One more pause, a direct stare to make sure I’m really listening to him.
“I love you, Maddie. Take care of my little girl and yourself.”
The screen goes dark.
I collapse forward, forehead on my knees, crying until I can’t breathe. The sobs rack my body so viciously, the muscles in my back knot up.
And then unexpectedly, I start to laugh through the tears, because of course Gray would know exactly what to say.
He always did.
Finally, when I can’t cry or laugh anymore and I’m left with a few tiny hiccups, I sit up and wipe my face. His words echo in my head. Stability isn’t the absence of risk. It’s wisely choosing the things that are good for you, despite the risk.
Choose.
I glance back at the screen. My cursor hovers over the file just below mine.
Atlas_OneLastThing.mp4.
For a long moment, I just stare. Then, with a breath that feels like stepping off a ledge, I click.
The screen fills with Gray’s face one more time and I settle in to listen.