Epilogue #4
Penny leans back against him, and he kisses the top of her head without looking away from Piper.
And that’s how I know I’m fucked. Because this isn’t just my daughter anymore — not in the way she’s mine and Ally’s, but in the way family claims space in your life simply by loving you enough. Piper has been alive a few hours. She already has them.
My parents come back in before the others, and Mom gets her turn.
I’ve watched Cassandra Harrington do a lot of things — interview people who could barely look her in the eye, walk into rooms full of powerful men and make every one of them nervous, stand beside Ally through shit no eighteen-year-old should ever have to survive.
I’ve never seen her look the way she does when I put my daughter in her arms.
“Oh, Ryan.” That’s it. She looks down at Piper and cries. Dad wraps an arm around her, and she touches Piper’s cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.” Then, “She’s beautiful.”
“She is,” Ally says.
Dad looks over Mom’s shoulder. “Can I hold her?” Mom doesn’t move. “Cassandra.”
“I just got her.”
“You’ve been holding her for five minutes.”
“That isn’t long.” Dad looks at me. “Your mother is refusing to share.”
“I wouldn’t get involved.”
“Coward.”
Eventually Mom hands her over, and the second Piper is against Dad’s chest, he shuts up, his hand covering almost her entire back. “Hi, Piper. I’m Walter.”
Tobias appears at his elbow. “MY Walter.”
Dad smiles. “Right. I’m Tobias’s Walter.”
“And mine.” Dad looks at me, and I smile.
His eyes get wet. He looks back down at Piper. “And if you’ll have me, I guess I can be yours too.”
Ally’s fingers squeeze mine. Piper sleeps through the offer.
Callum and Saoirse come in together, and both go to Ally first. Every parent does.
I notice it. So does she. Nobody rushes past the eighteen-year-old who just gave birth to get to the baby.
Saoirse hugs her. Callum puts a hand on Ally’s shoulder and asks how she’s feeling, and only after Ally answers do they come toward Piper.
Saoirse cries when she holds her. Callum claims he isn’t crying when she passes Piper to him. He is.
Thomas comes in next, hugs Ally carefully, and looks at me. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
His eyes move to Piper, then back to us, and he smiles. “You built something good.”
The words hit harder than I expect. I look at Ally, and she’s looking at me too. Thomas doesn’t know everything — nobody does — but he knows enough. He knows what our lives looked like a year ago. He knows what our parents did to us. He knows what Ally survived.
“Trying to,” I say.
Thomas shakes his head. “No.” His gaze moves between us.
“You did.” Ally wipes beneath one eye. Thomas takes Piper when I offer her, and looks down.
“Piper Jane.” He doesn’t pretend he knew Jane.
He doesn’t pretend the name means something to him that it doesn’t.
He just looks at Ally. “That’s a hell of a name to carry. ”
“The good parts,” Ally says.
Thomas nods. “Then she’ll carry them well.”
Alice and Gideon come next, then Clifford and Louise, then Theodore, then Katya again — because there’s no universe where I’m telling Katya she only gets one turn.
Arthur comes in last. He stands beside the bed looking at Piper like she’s a legal document he hasn’t figured out how to read yet.
Then she wraps her fingers around one of his, and he stops, his throat working.
“Hello, Piper.”
I grin. “You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.”
“Fair.” He looks at Ally. “You’re well?”
“Tired.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Ally smiles. “I’m okay.”
“Good.” Then he looks at me. “Seven pounds, eight ounces?”
“You’re doing this now?”
“I waited.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
Cat appears in the doorway. “You lost.”
Arthur looks offended. “By how much?”
“Three ounces and twenty-seven minutes.”
“Acceptable margin.”
Tobias pushes between them. “Did I win?”
Cat points at him. “You picked both.”
“I paid twice.”
Arthur looks down. “Did the written rules expressly prohibit multiple entries?”
Cat’s mouth falls open. “Arthur. Do not lawyer the baby pool.”
He’s already reaching into his wallet, and Tobias lights up. I look at Ally. She’s laughing, surrounded by our parents, our friends, our daughter. Laughing. I could live inside this moment.
It’s dark outside when Iz and Bella finally get here — seven hours in a car, and they still come straight to the hospital.
Iz opens the door with one hand, his other linked with Bella’s.
Nothing unusual about it. They’re together.
They’re always touching now. Bella is tucked against his side, her head briefly resting on his shoulder while she says something too quiet for me to hear.
Then she sees Piper, and stops, and Iz stops with her.
“Oh.” Bella’s hand tightens around his.
Iz looks at our daughter, his face softening. “Yeah.”
Tobias launches himself at them. “She’s a girl!”
Iz catches him with his free arm. “So I’ve heard.”
“And her name is Piper Jane.”
“We heard that too.”
“I held her first.”
“Obviously,” Bella says.
“And she’s really little.”
Iz looks at me. “Also heard that.”
Tobias grabs Bella’s hand. “You have to meet her.”
“I was planning on it.”
He drags her toward the bed, Iz following, his hand settling at Bella’s back when she leans over Piper.
Bella looks at Ally first. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Bella bends and hugs her, then looks at Piper — and Bella Whelan, who has an opinion about everything, goes completely quiet. “She’s beautiful.”
Iz looks down at Piper. “Yeah.”
Bella glances at him, and he kisses her temple. No argument. No performance. Just them.
“Can I hold her?” Bella asks.
Ally smiles. “Of course.”
Bella sits, and I put Piper into her arms, and her face changes immediately. “Hi, gorgeous.” Piper squirms, and Bella smiles down at her. “Oh, you’re perfect.”
Iz crouches beside her, one arm along the back of her chair, and she leans into him without thinking.
Tobias squeezes in beside them. “She’s your friend too.”
Iz looks at him. “She is?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.”
Bella touches Piper’s tiny hand. “She has a lot of friends.”
Tobias shakes his head. “Family.”
Bella goes still. Iz looks at him, but Tobias doesn’t notice what he just did — he’s too busy watching Piper.
“She has everybody.”
Iz’s arm moves from the chair to Bella’s shoulders, and Bella leans into him. “Yeah,” she says softly. “She does.”
Danny and Becca arrive the next morning, straight from the airport — I know because Danny still has both suitcases when they come through the door.
Becca has one thing: a gift bag. She sees Piper and stops.
Danny nearly runs into her. Neither of them speaks.
I know why. Ally knows why. Everybody who knows them knows why.
Their baby should be here. Not in this room.
Not on this exact morning. But in the world.
They should know what sleepless nights feel like by now.
Danny should know exactly how to hold a newborn without thinking about it.
Becca should know what seven pounds feels like against her chest. They should have pictures.
A name. A car seat. A thousand tiny things scattered through their apartment.
They should have their baby. They don’t.
And now they’re standing in front of ours.
Becca looks at Ally first. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” The gift bag drops beside their luggage. Becca crosses the room and hugs Ally carefully, and for a second neither of them says anything. Then Becca whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
When Becca pulls back, she’s crying. She wipes her face. “I’m so happy for you.”
Ally takes her hand. “I know.”
“And I knew I would be. I just—“ She looks toward Piper. Danny comes up behind her, his hand settling at her waist, and she leans back against him and closes her eyes for a second. Danny kisses her temple. Then she opens them. “Can I meet her?”
Ally’s eyes fill. “Yeah.”
I lift Piper from the bassinet, and Becca sits, and I lower my daughter into her arms. Her breath catches. “Oh my God.”
Danny stands behind her, hands on her shoulders. Becca looks down. “Hi.” Piper’s eyes blink open, and Becca starts crying harder. “There you are.”
Danny bends closer, and Piper stares in absolutely no direction at all, and his mouth trembles. “Hey, kid.”
Becca’s butterfly bracelet rests beside Piper’s blanket. I see Danny notice it. His thumb moves over Becca’s shoulder, and she looks up at him, and there’s a whole conversation there — one I’m not part of, one I don’t need to be.
Then Danny looks at me. “Can I?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
Becca turns toward him. “You want her?”
His eyes drop to Piper. “Yeah.”
Just one word. Becca stands carefully, and Danny takes Piper from her — and he knows exactly how. One hand beneath her head. One supporting her body. No hesitation. He researched it. He learned. For a baby he never got to hold. My throat closes. Becca sees it too, and her face folds.
Danny looks down at Piper, his jaw tightening. “Hi.”
Piper stretches against him. Becca presses herself into his side, and his arm shifts to make room for her without taking his eyes off my daughter.
Becca’s hand rests against Piper’s blanket, her butterfly bracelet catching the morning light.
Danny kisses Becca’s hair. And for a minute they just stand there, holding our baby, missing theirs, loving ours anyway.
Becca finally looks over. “We brought her something.”
“You flew across the country with a present?”
“We’ve had it for months.”
Danny smiles faintly. “She found it.”
“He found part of it.” Becca takes Piper back so Danny can get the bag, and he brings it over, white tissue paper sticking out of the top. Becca looks at Ally. “I thought I could do this without crying.”
Danny sits beside her. “You’ve cried since baggage claim.”
“So have you.”
“I know.” Her face softens. He kisses her forehead. “You want me to do it?”