Epilogue
Rory.
“Just to be clear, we’re not trying to rush him.”
I sat at the kitchen island with the phone on speaker between us, one hand wrapped around a mug I had not taken a single sip from. My tea had gone cold twenty minutes ago, but I kept holding it because I needed something to do with my hands.
Across from me, Marlon stood with his arms crossed but shoulders relaxed. He had been quiet for most of the call, but not absent. He listened hard. That was his thing with this process. He absorbed the information first, then asked questions nobody else thought to ask.
The woman from the agency spoke gently.
“We understand that, Ms. Rodriguez. With children his age, especially after disruption, transition matters. You’ll have scheduled visits first. If those go well, we’ll move into overnight stays before full placement.”
I nodded like she could see me. “Right. Okay. And during the visits, are we supposed to bring things? Toys? Food? Clothes? Or is that too much?”
“It depends on the child,” she said. “For him, we recommend starting small. He responds well to routine. Too many gifts may overwhelm him or make him feel like he has to perform gratitude.”
I swallowed.
That sentence went straight through me.
Perform gratitude.
I knew what that looked like. Different situation, same feeling. Marlon’s eyes moved to me and I looked down at my mug.
“So no big dramatic welcome basket,” I joked.
“Not at first,” the woman replied. “A small item is fine. Something practical or comforting, like a blanket. But the biggest thing you can offer is consistency.”
Consistency.
That word had been haunting me since we started this process.
That was the thing all the parenting books kept saying. The classes too. The home study coordinator said it three times during our interview. Children with complicated histories needed adults who did what they said they were going to do.
And me?
I used to be the queen of doing whatever I felt like doing and figuring out the damage later.
So of course, I was terrified.
“What if he doesn’t like us?” I asked.
The second it left my mouth, I regretted it. It sounded childish but it was the question sitting in my chest, so whatever. The woman didn’t laugh.
“That’s possible,” she said. “He may not warm up right away.”
I closed my eyes for a second and played with the chain Marlon gave me.
Great.
Marlon finally spoke. “And what happens if he says he doesn’t want to stay?”
See what I mean? Marley always asked questions nobody else thought to ask.
I looked at him then.
His voice was calm, but I knew that question cost him something. Because Marlon had been in the system and knew what it felt like to be somewhere you don’t want to be with people you don’t like.
“That will be handled carefully,” she said. “If he expresses fear or hesitation, we slow down and adjust the transition plan.”
Marlon nodded once.
“What does he know about us?” I asked.
“He knows you’re a couple interested in adopting him. He knows you live on a vineyard. He knows you have horses and a dog.”
Chewy barked from the floor like he knew he was being discussed.
I looked down at him. “Please don’t embarrass me when we meet this child.”
Marlon’s mouth moved like he wanted to smile but refused to give me the satisfaction. The woman laughed softly. “We did mention Chewy. He seemed very interested in that.”
“Okay,” I said. “So the dog has his interest more than us. Good to know.”
Marlon looked at me before adjusting his glasses. “He does have a better attitude.”
I pointed at him. “Do not start with me.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, you always just saying.”
The agency woman cleared her throat, amused.
“That kind of natural interaction is good, by the way. Children need to see warmth, but they also need to see normalcy. Your first visit is scheduled for next Wednesday at ten. It will be at the agency office as it is a neutral space. His caseworker will be present. You’ll have about ninety minutes together. ”
Ninety minutes to meet a five-year-old boy who might become our son.
My fingers tightened around the mug again.
“What does he like?” I asked. “Besides dogs.”
“He likes drawing. Dinosaurs. Building blocks. He struggles with loud spaces, so I would avoid anything too crowded at first. He also likes knowing the schedule ahead of time.”
I grabbed the notebook beside me and started writing.
Marlon leaned over slightly to read my notes.
“You write all that down?” he asked.
“Mind your business.”
“This is my business.”
I pointed my pen at him. “You want notes or not?”
He held his good hand up. “Write.”
The woman gave us a few more instructions, background documents, emergency contact updates and a reminder that adoption was not a rescue. I wrote it down and underlined it twice.
Because I needed to remember that.
This little boy was not a project for me and Marlon to take on because we feel like we were ready for a new challenge. He was not a way to prove we could be better than our own parents. He was not a bandage for everything me and Marlon had survived.
He was a person. A small whole person. He had fears and preferences and memories that had nothing to do with us. And if we got lucky enough to love him, we had to love him properly.
Not selfishly.
“What if I’m bad at this?” I asked aloud after the woman finished explaining the next step.
“Bad parents usually don’t worry about being bad parents before the child is even home, Ms. Rodriguez.”
I let out a small breath. “That sounds nice, but I’ve met parents who worried and still did damage.”
“That’s true,” she said. “Worry alone isn’t enough. But self-awareness, support, consistency, and willingness to learn matter. From everything we’ve seen, you and Mr. Sinclair are taking this seriously and Elias will be loved.”
Marlon’s hand came to the back of my chair.
But I don’t know how to be a mother.
For once, I wasn’t trying to make it funny or play it off. I genuinely don’t know what it feels like to be mothered every day, so how am I supposed to do that for somebody else?
Even though I was sure we could provide everything this child needed, was I nurturing?
Marlon’s fingers finally brushed my shoulder.
I looked up at him.
He looked back at me with that calm, serious face that used to drive me insane and now made me feel less alone.
“Rory,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
He hooked his finger into the chain around my neck and pulled me closer. “You gotta breathe, my love.”
My heart stopped, not gonna lie. But I swallowed and nodded.
The woman gave us a final rundown, then promised to send the written plan by the end of the day. I thanked her three times. Marlon thanked her once, but his one sounded more professional than all three of mine combined.
When the call ended, I didn’t move.
I stared at my notes and Marlon stayed behind me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I laughed under my breath. “No.”
He came around the island and sat beside me. “Then talk. Communicate.”
I looked at him. “You love that damn word.”
“And you love acting like words are gonna kill you.”
I rolled my eyes, but it didn’t have much energy behind it.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I know.”
“No, like… scared scared.” I tapped the notebook with my pen.
“This isn’t running a department or planning a launch.
This is a child. He’s five. He probably has favorite snacks and nightmares and little opinions.
What if I say the wrong thing? What if I get frustrated?
What if I’m too much? What if I’m not enough? ”
Marlon listened without interrupting. That was one of the best things about him now.
He didn’t rush to shut me up, he let me unravel a little. Then he reached over and took the pen out of my hand because I had started clicking it too hard.
“Let me save you so much energy. You gonna mess up,” he said.
I stared at him. “Wow! That is not helping.”
“It’s true.”
“I need comfort, Marlon.”
“That is comfort.”
“No, that is the opposite.”
His eye twitched, then he pushed his glasses up with his palm heel.
“You’re gonna mess up,” he repeated. “So am I. We not perfect people. But you won’t abandon him.”
I went quiet.
“And when you get it wrong,” he continued, “you’ll fix it.”
I looked down at my notes again. “I want him to like me.”
“He might not at first.”
“I know, but I want him to.”
“That’s normal.”
“I already bought pajamas.”
He paused. “You did what?”
I gave him a guilty look. “They were cute.”
“We were told no big welcome basket.”
“Pajamas are not a basket.”
“Rabbit.”
“What? He needs clothes.”
“We don’t even know his size.”
“I guessed.”
He stared at me and I lifted my chin and smiled for the first time that morning. He shook his head, but there was warmth in his eyes. Now I was in a playful mood again.
I exhaled dramatically. “I can’t believe I let you baby-trap me without getting me pregnant. And before we get married!”
“Bunny, this was your idea,” he grinned, entertained by my theatrics. “You wanted a kid first, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” I tapped my chin. “Well, I needed someone closer in age to me around here.”
Now the smile dropped.
“You always take shit too far.”
But I was laughing.
Two years and some change ago, I came here because my father shipped me off. Now I ran half the company.
Now I was engaged to the man everyone thought would ruin me and we were preparing to become parents to a little boy who liked dinosaurs and quiet spaces.
Life was funny. But not ha-ha funny.
More like ‘look at what you’ survived funny.
I reached for Marlon’s hand and he gave it to me immediately.
That still did something to me.
Not because he touched me, but because he let me touch him back.
“Do you think he’ll like the vineyard?” I asked.
“I think it’ll take time.”
“Do you think Spades will scare him?”
“Spades scares grown men.”
“True.”
“We’ll start him with Chewy.”
I looked down at the dog. “Chewy is a terrible ambassador.”
Chewy sneezed.
“See? Unbothered already.”