I wipe Emme’s face with a wet wipe and unbuckle her. Staring into her eyes, I know she’s Crew’s. Everything from her big blue eyes to the tiny dimple in her pudgy chin. She has his long fingers, the ring one slightly bent, and I swear they make the same facial expressions when they’re angry, which is rare. They both sleep with their arms above their heads when they’re really tired, and they both crinkle their noses when they laugh.
Emme is Crew’s.
I place Crew’s daughter on my hip and go to him.
“You’re quiet.” I rub his back, rise on my toes, and set my chin on his shoulder. He smells like a construction site. Oil and metal and wood shavings. A tiny hint of this morning’s aftershave.
He folds the paper and pats it with his hand, sliding it across the counter. And then he turns to us, his facial features softening in the early evening light.
“She’s mine,” he says, scooping her from my arm. She reaches for his face and giggles.
“She’s yours?” My hands clasp against my beating heart.
He nods, kissing his daughter on the nose before she grabs a chubby fistful of his dark hair. He winces but doesn’t complain.
“Thank God.” I slip under his other arm, my hand on his chest and my head against his shoulder.
For a moment, it feels like the three of us—four, technically—against the world. We can do anything as long as we’re together. Somehow we all click. We work. We fit, like we were somehow always meant to be a family.
It feels right.
My stomach churns for the fifteenth time today. I managed to eat some chicken soup today, but I had to load it with a zillion saltine crackers to keep it down. And an hour ago, I swallowed half a banana and a glass of milk.
I lift my hand to my mouth. I can taste everything in the back of my throat.
“Be right back.” I dash off to the bathroom. When I’m done, I wash my face and brush my teeth. I feel momentary relief, but I know it’ll return. It’s a small price to pay for the most beautiful experience in the world. Standing in front of the mirror, I pull my shirt up just enough to see my belly. It’s flat now. Nothing to see. But in a few months, it’s going to fill out.
I place a warm palm on my stomach and try to poof it out. I try to imagine what I’ll look like at four months or five months or nine months. I never made it past three in the past.
Everything that’s happened has led to this little miracle growing inside me.
Had I known about Father Nathaniel’s ploy, known I was truly fertile, this never would’ve happened.
I love this baby more than words. Whenever I think of it, my entire being’s enveloped in radiant warmth. That’s love.
“There she is,” Crew says when I return downstairs. He’s in the family room playing stacker cups with Emme. She rolls everywhere now. I bet she’ll crawl in the next month or two.
“We need to baby proof,” I remind him, staking a seat in a nearby recliner.
“We need to do a lot of things.”
“I’m making a list,” I say. “I’ll add babyproofing. Maybe we can knock it all out this weekend?”
“This weekend’s Easter.” His voice is low, and he examines a yellow plastic cup between his fingers.
“Oh, did you want to do something special for Emme?”
His jaw squares and he shakes his head. “My parents are having a get-together at their house in Lake Tahoe.”
“I didn’t think you were invited.”
“I’m not,” he says. “But we’re going. All of us. I need to tell my dad what’s going on, introduce him to my family, you and Emme. And if he doesn’t accept it, then that’s on him.”
“I . . . I’m your family? You consider me your family?”
He crawls up from his spot on the floor and moves to me, rising. He takes my hands from my lap and pulls me up.
“Calypso, you’re family. Why would you even question that? You’re carrying my child. You’re with me every day. You’re the closest thing to a mother my daughter has,” he says. “If that’s not a family, I don’t know what is.”
I try not to smile too big.
It’s weird having a place in this world, belonging to someone. I didn’t think I’d like being tied to anyone, not after what happened with Mathias years ago. I wanted to be free to