Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Emma
There are moments in your life you never want to forget.
It makes sense why technology has become a pillar in our society.
The ability to take pictures and videos, even of the most monotonous things, like children picking up leaves, can be kept forever.
I am that annoying mom who is always reaching for her phone, constantly purchasing more cloud storage, and grumbling when I miss the moment.
But then there are moments that I don’t need any tangible help in remembering.
I can replay the moment Steven held our babies for the first time with no effort at all.
I remember his chocolate eyes filling with tears and his shaking hands as the nurse handed him Easton.
Then when she swapped him with Sawyer from my chest. But those moments don’t hold a candle to the moment he laid eyes on Josie.
The father-daughter connection is something so beautifully innate that no force, even from a helicopter mother like myself, can break it.
I never considered that moment, as perfect and magical as it was, might happen a second time.
Steven’s hands shake as Ellie approaches him with the baby.
Josie reaches for him, but he clutches his fists, uncertain if he should take her. His eyes are sad as he watches her expectantly. He’s probably asking himself if this is okay, if it’s okay to hold his own daughter.
“I know it’s a lot,” I try to explain, but his face falls. His heart is breaking right here in the middle of our messy living room. Ellie continues holding Josie as I brush her curly hair out of her face.
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
I’m trying to be encouraging, but I see the slight tensing in Steven’s jaw, the disappointment he must be feeling that he’s having to endure this. That he can’t remember his baby. He forces a smile, not once taking his eyes off of Josie.
“You can do this.” I squeeze his bicep, and the simple touch must be enough to change his entire mood. His eyes light up, and a big smile splits across his face.
“Are you sure?” he asks when Ellie holds Josie out for him. His voice is so hopeful and excited it makes me ache.
“I’m positive.”
He finally scoops her up—effortlessly, I might add. Because holding his daughter isn’t something he could forget. It’s engrained in him.
“Hi there, sweet girl,” he coos, and she giggles, grabbing his face with force.
He doesn’t flinch. Of course he doesn’t.
They laugh and bounce together as we make our way back to the couch.
When she tries to gnaw on his finger, Benny passes him a teether toy, and Steven takes it without missing a beat, already lost in the rhythm of entertaining a squirmy baby.
Her gummy smile stretches wide, and her cheeks pinch as she gazes up at her daddy. I’m overwhelmed with emotion as I watch them. And the sob that claws its way out of me because of that is so unexpected it startles the room.
Steven’s eyes whip to me, but before I can reassure him I’m fine, I run to the kitchen and dry heave into the sink.
My stomach goes hollow and sour. Air can’t get to my lungs quick enough, my neck is blazing, and the room is fuzzy in the corners.
I heave out breaths, gripping the edge of the counter for balance.
The sink is suddenly turned on, drowning out the ragged breaths coming out of me, followed by Ellie’s hand on my back.
As she rubs back and forth, she reminds me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
She names the time blinking on the microwave, the smell of the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches sitting on the counter, the sound of the rain trickling down the windows outside.
“You’re okay. Just breathe through it.”
I slam my eyes shut, clinging to the instruction. Toughen up, Emma. Get over yourself. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
“Do you need your meds?” Ellie whispers, her hand steadying on my shoulder blade.
“I don’t know.” I grimace, the strangling heat in my throat moving up into my head. It starts to pound, and I press a palm to my forehead. “Maybe,” I finally say, defeated that I couldn’t make it a day without needing a pill.
“Hey.” Ellie tugs me toward her and leveling me with a look. “You’re not a failure because you need help. What’s going on is enough to send anyone into a fit, and you are handling it so well. Give yourself some grace.” She jostles my shoulders with each word. “And maybe a little space too.”
I snort. “I wish.”
“I’m serious.” She arches a brow.
“Grace,” I breathe out.
“And space.”
“Grace and space.” I smile as she pulls out my anxiety medication from the top of the cupboard, weakly hidden behind a container of flour.
“Benny and I are going to be here all day, and Steven seems to be handling it well. Why don’t you go upstairs and rest, pump, read your book. Do something for yourself.”
“Sure. But we both know I’ll just lie up there thinking about what’s going on down here, then I’ll need more of these.” I wave the bottle she handed me around like it’s a ribbon, rattling the pills manically to emphasize my point.
With an exhausted eye roll, Ellie sets her feet and blocks my path back into the living room.
“Seriously?”
She doesn’t budge.
“I just can’t, El.” I sigh, the words collapsing before I can build any kind of defense. I don’t have the energy to defend myself. The emotional tax I’ve been paying for days has finally caught up with me, leaving me overdrawn and worn out. “I need to be here. For them. For him.”
She says nothing, but her mouth twists like she’s holding something back.
“What?” I snap.
“I didn’t say anything.”
I narrow my eyes. “Ellie…”
“Everything alright?”
Steven’s voice drifts in from the doorway, Josie asleep in his arms. He cradles her like a football, her limbs loose as they dangle over his forearm.
Drool dribbles around the pacifier that’s balanced in her half-open mouth.
The sight of them is so tender that it makes me want to melt.
He catches me smiling and gives a small, helpless shrug, like this is just how things are now.
“Everything’s fine,” Ellie tells him, but she doesn’t turn around. Her eyes stay locked on mine, unblinking. “Emma was thinking about going upstairs to take a nap, which I thought was a great idea, don’t you?”
She finally shifts just enough to arch a brow in his direction, the question still aimed squarely at me. I grit my teeth at her.
Steven doesn’t give the question half a thought when he agrees. “I think that’s a great idea. You should rest, Emma.”
Ellie’s face goes from tentative to downright devious.
I gape at both of them, dumbfounded by this new dynamic.
Present-day Steven and my sister aren’t co-conspirators.
They tolerate each other, at best. They disagree more than anything, which makes for terrible game nights.
But right now, when I need Steven to read my mind, see the way my jaw is set and my eyes are shooting daggers at my sister, he can’t.
“We have things to—”
“You can handle them,” Ellie interjects through a tight smile, “after your nap.”
“Fine.” I grunt at her then turn to Steven. “Are you okay?”
“I am perfect,” he reassures me, snuggling Josie closer.
Of course losing his memory couldn’t erase the pure joy he has in being a father.
I’m not sure what I was expecting—if I was expecting anything, really—but knowing he’s not running for the hills eases the dread that’s been curdling in my stomach.
He gives me a soft smile before he joins the boys back in the living room. My head swivels from the doorway to where Ellie still stands, slow and deadly. Like a predator. She flinches, just barely. Then she straightens, schooling herself as she lifts her hand and points toward the stairs.
“Now go on, get.” Her attempt at a Southern accent is so hilariously bad that I just laugh and do as I’m told. No need arguing at this point.
As suspected, taking an actual nap doesn’t happen.
I toss and turn for a solid ten minutes before giving up completely and going through my emails.
I confirm the interview scheduled with Malcolm’s sister in two days, ensuring Kate can hang out with Steven.
I email India and Jay with updates, ignoring their need for confirmation if we’ll be visiting next week or not.
And lastly, I reluctantly send a text to Liam, letting him know Steven is home.
My phone rings as soon as the swoosh of my delivered message sounds.
“Liam,” I mutter, rolling out of the bed and abandoning the rest time altogether.
“What took so long?” he mutters back. No time for pleasantries. I hear the sound of a car door shutting, then leaves and wind rustle as he breathes into the phone. “It takes five seconds to send a text.”
“Hello to you too.”
“How is he?” he asks, and I hear another door shut, followed by a thud and an odd rolling, scratching sound.
“He’s good. Just spending time getting acquainted. The doctor said to take it easy, so I think we’re just going to stay home for the weekend and see if anything comes back to him.”
“Great, you still have your guest room open?” His breathing gets heavier, like he’s carrying something, then I hear wooden steps creak. Familiar wooden steps.
Then the high-pitched jingle of our doorbell cuts through the house. And the phone. At the same time.
No.
I dart to the window and look down to see Liam standing on my front porch, suitcase in hand.
“Absolutely not,” I object as I barrel down the stairs.
“Absolutely yes.”.
Swinging the door open is all he needs. No greeting, no boundaries. Liam just waltzes past me, dropping his suitcase in the foyer.
“You can’t just come—”
“I’m the only one he remembers.” Liam’s words are a slice to my rib cage, hollowing me out right here in my own home. “And I’m a medical professional. You need me here.”