of my men, asking them about their plans for the future. Afterward, as she unlocks her car, ready to depart, she smiles and shakes her head. "You know, your dad made some big mistakes in his life. The way he left things between you, well, I'll always be angry about that. But he did a good thing with those boys. They really are something special, and he left you a life with more security than I have ever been able to offer you. I'm glad for that."
"It's funny how things work out."
"Are you at peace with him now?"
I gaze back at the house, thinking about the box of his possessions that I've kept at the bottom of my closet and the legacy of a family he left me. I remember the words from his letter and realize that the knot I had in my chest whenever I thought about him has gone. "I am," I say with cool relief. "I know I never got to tell him how I feel in person, but that doesn't matter. I have a life to live… a life he helped to create and shape. I'll let that be his legacy."
We hug again, enjoying the novelty of the comfortableness between us. Long may it last.
And when I go inside, finding my men relaxing in the den, a space left for me on the sofa, I finally feel at peace.
EPILOGUE
It’s six weeks since my foster brothers drove me to the hospital with my contractions five minutes apart. Only two of them could come with me, and when it was put to the vote, John and Gordon were chosen: John for his amazing empathy and Gordon because he’d spent the last four months of my pregnancy poring over baby books and learning everything he could about childbirth. That man definitely doesn’t like to be underprepared.
Baby Dale was born at 6.05 am and came into the world red-faced and screaming. It was only when they rested him onto my chest that he was quiet, gazing at me with his unfocused eyes that already remind me of his daddy.
John and Gordon both have tears in their eyes, my big, strong men overwhelmed with emotion as they witness my child coming into the world, the child they are going to raise as their own.
Gordon is the first to reach out a finger, gently stroking Dale’s wet hair and then touching his hand. On instinct, Dale wraps his tiny little fingers around Gordon’s huge digit, already holding on for dear life. A whoosh of breath leaves Gordon’s lips. “Look.”
I smile up at him, warmth spilling out of my heart with an intensity that I’ve never felt before. “He knows you’re special.”
John bends to kiss my lips gently. “No, you’re special. Look what you created.”
And I do. I can’t stop staring at the perfect being that has developed inside me, made by a physical act that was far from loving, but generating the fiercest welling of love in my heart. People always say that you don’t truly know love until you have a child, and in that moment, I agree. I would go to the ends of the earth to keep my little man safe. I’d risk everything if it meant he’d be okay.
In my arms, he starts to squirm. “You can put him to the breast,” the midwife says. “He’ll know what to do.”
“I’m glad one of us will,” I say, feeling very unconfident. It’s strange to pull up the old football jersey that I’ve given birth in, and getting the angle right is a struggle, but once my little man latches on, it seems okay.
“That’s my boy,” Gordon says.
John smiles and nods his head proudly. “It’s like he’s tucking into a burger meal,” he says. “Maggie’s breasts are just a buffet to him.”
“They’re a buffet to me too,” Gordon mumbles, and the midwife sniggers.
“So you’re the father?” she asks.
“We both are,” John says without a hint of embarrassment or uncertainty.
“And there are another nine daddies in the waiting room,” Gordon says, gazing down at me like I’m the most wondrous thing he’s ever seen.
“Speaking of the other nine, can we swap out so that they can come and meet little Dale?” John asks.
“Let’s just wait for Maggie to finish labor. Now she’s feeding, her womb will contract faster.” The nurse smiles at John’s eagerness, but Gordon shakes his head. “You see, if you’d read any of the books like I did, you’d have known that.”
“That’s great that you’re prepared,” the