25. Emma
TWENTY-FIVE
Emma
Two years later…
We’re at a cozy little restaurant on the edge of Hannigan’s Park. The place is bustling with the sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter, celebrating Ava's second birthday. It's intimate, with warm lighting casting a cheerful glow on our table that's filled with loved ones.
Our two-year-old daughter is the life of the party, charming everyone with her bubbly laughter and boundless energy.
As the waiter sets down another round of appetizers, Ava, in her floral dress, tries to grab a piece too big for her tiny hands. “Easy there, little munchkin,” I laugh, helping her out.
She beams up at me, her joy infectious.
Amelia leans across the table, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe she’s already two. Feels like just yesterday you were rushing to the hospital and I was trying not to panic.”
“Tell me about it,” I reply, watching Ava amusing herself with the reflection in her spoon. “It's been a whirlwind. But a happy one.”
Alex, sitting next to Matteo, chimes in, waving a breadstick like a conductor's baton. “Here’s to Ava, may your year be as bright and lively as your energy levels,” he declares, raising his glass. “God knows, when I babysit, I need a nap afterward.”
Everyone cheers, raising their glasses, and Ava, noticing the commotion, tries to mimic the toast with her sippy cup, spilling a bit of juice in her excitement. “Cheers!” she exclaims, a new word she's picked up that makes everyone laugh.
Matteo wipes up the little spill, his eyes meeting mine with that shared look of parental amusement and love. “She's definitely got her mother’s spirit,” he teases gently.
“And her father’s cheek,” I retort, as we all settle back, the atmosphere light and filled with laughter.
Pamela pulls out her camera. “Okay, everyone squeeze in! Ava, sweetie, can Auntie Amelia help blow out your candles?”
Ava nods enthusiastically, already distracted by the prospect of cake. As the servers bring out the cake ablaze with candles, she squirms in her seat, ready to spring into action.
“Let’s sing!” Pamela starts off, and we all join in, singing 'Happy Birthday' loudly, some of us more off-key than others.
Ava watches the candles with wide-eyed wonder.
“Now, make a wish,” I say, after we finish singing.
Ava, unable to contain her excitement any longer, practically lunges forward to help blow out the candles, her little puffs of breath comically ineffective until Amelia joins in and they extinguish the candles together.
Applause breaks out around the table, and Ava claps her hands, delighted with the collective cheer. “Did it!” she squeals, her face lit up with pride.
As the cake is cut, I lean back, watching the scene unfold, feeling a surge of warmth. “This is perfect,” I whisper to Matteo, who has an arm around my shoulder.
“Absolutely,” he agrees, kissing the top of my head lightly. “Perfect.”
Pamela passes Ava a book. “Now, it’s important you learn early,” she says, tapping the cover. “This duck is superb, the best duck you could imagine. There’s another duck book out there you might have heard of. Awful, don’t go near it.”
“Other duck bad,” Ava replies.
“Stick with me, you’ll go far,” Pamela says with a laugh.
As the evening winds down, our little group lingers over coffee and the last slices of birthday cake. The restaurant has grown quieter, the earlier bustle fading into a gentle hum of distant conversations and the clinking of dishes being cleared. Ava, exhausted from the excitement, has fallen asleep in her father’s arms, her tiny chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.
Pamela, ever the thoughtful one, sets down her cup with a soft clink. “You know, looking around this table... it really makes you think about where we all started, doesn't it?” She gestures around at all of us, her expression warm.
Alex nods, his demeanor softer than his usual stoic appearance. “It's been quite the journey. Ups, downs... but here we all are. Stronger for it.”
Amelia, whose laughter has been a constant soundtrack to the evening, smiles softly. “I was just thinking about that. How much we’ve all changed. I mean, look at us. Celebrating together, supporting each other through everything. It’s like out of one of those feel-good movies. Emma, you haven’t once tried to straighten up the cutlery.”
As she’s talking, my hand is on the knife. I pull it away and give her a grin. “Just checking something,” I say with a wink.
Matteo shifts Ava slightly in his arms, gazing down at her with a tender smile before looking up at me. “I used to think that holding everything tightly, controlling every outcome, was the only way to protect myself, to protect us. But I was wrong. It’s this,” he gestures around the table, “family, our friends, being open and vulnerable—that’s what gives me real strength.”
Alex coughs. “That was pretty cheesy, boss.”
“Don’t care,” Matteo replies.
Amelia raises her glass again, this time with a reflective tilt. “To love, then. To its power to transform, to heal, and to triumph.”
We all raise our glasses in agreement, the clink echoing softly in the now quiet space. Ava sleeps on peacefully, oblivious to it all.