as evidence of her instability in our custody fight.
It was on the morning of the third day, when Brian and I were having toast and coffee in our pajamas, that a vehicle crunched down our drive. Visitors to our home were rare in general, and even more rare at 6:45 a.m. We both moved to the front of the house and peered out the window. Crawling toward us was Max’s black Range Rover.
My heart was in my throat as I watched the big athlete get out of the vehicle and walk around to the back doors. He moved slowly, like he was in pain. Or in mourning. Or both. Reaching into the back, he withdrew a bucket car seat. And in it was our beautiful baby.
“He brought Maggie,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Brian said, practical and cautious. “We don’t know why he’s here.”
I hung back as Brian opened the door and ushered Max and the baby inside. Max had a bulging diaper bag on his shoulder, and my chest fluttered with hope. There would be no need to pack so much gear for a short visit.
He eschewed pleasantries. “Freya’s gone,” he said.
Brian’s eyes flitted to mine. Then he said, “Gone where?”
“She just disappeared.” He swallowed. “The police think she jumped off a cliff into the ocean.”
“Oh God,” I cried. While I had suspected suicide, hearing it articulated was devastating. Tears pricked my eyes for the loss of the woman I’d once loved, the woman I’d thought was my best friend, the mother of the beautiful little girl before me.
“They’ve dragged the coastline near our property, but they haven’t found her.”
Brian said, “Could she have left? Gone back to LA or somewhere else?”
“Her wallet and credit cards are still at the house. Her parents and old contacts haven’t heard from her. Only her phone is missing. I don’t know if you saw her Instagram post . . .”
“We did,” I said. “We’ve been concerned.”
“I would have called you, but the police have been interrogating me.” He shifted the car seat into his other hand. “I’ve been cleared.”
Brian and I both nodded. “Good.”
Max took a labored breath. “I want Maggie to live with you.”
“Really?” I gasped, not sure I could believe my own ears.
“She doesn’t belong to me. I know that. And I can’t take care of her on my own. She deserves two parents who will love and adore her.”
“We will,” I said, the tears spilling over. “I promise.”
“Thank you,” Brian said, clearing the emotion from his throat. “We’ll be the best parents we can be.”
“I’m moving back up north,” Max continued. “I need to be close to my family. I need some quiet. I’ve put the house on the market, but you can come and get her furniture. We’ve got everything she needs.”
I nodded slightly, but I was too overcome to speak.
“I called my lawyer in the city about custody. Freya named me as the baby’s father, so my attorney said a formal adoption will be the easiest. The paperwork shouldn’t take too long.”
He set down the car seat and knelt to peer in at Maggie. “Have a good life, little one.” He stroked her soft cheek with his big fingers.
Maggie gurgled and smiled at him. My heart twisted in my chest.
“She’ll be happy here,” Max said to us. “This is right.” Without looking back, he left.
• • •
That’s how Maggie became ours. It was an adjustment, at first, but we joyfully made it. I cared for her in the mornings while Brian wrote. When I opened the store at ten, he took over the childcare duties. At noon, after she had her lunch, Brian brought Maggie to the store, where she napped in the back room. I’d found a new assistant—a lovely senior named Joyce, who was more than capable of managing customers while I tended to my daughter’s needs. At the end of my shift, I took Maggie home for dinner, a bath, and bed. I was exhausted but happy. The baby was happy, too. She never made strange with us; she never seemed to miss Freya and Max. It was like she, too, knew this was where she belonged.
Two weeks after we became parents, a manila envelope arrived at Hawking Mercantile. I barely glanced at the unfamiliar return address; I knew it was from Max’s lawyers. These would be the documents required to make our parenthood official. Excitedly, I slid my thumb under the sealed flap and pulled out the pages.