He looked at the carrier. “Because I hadn’t slept in four days. Because every time she cried, I heard Jennifer not breathing. Because I was afraid I’d drop her or fail her or hate myself for not being enough.”
He dragged both hands over his face.
“I rang your bell. I waited in the car across the street until I saw you pick her up. I didn’t leave until then.”
I broke.
I cried right there in the diner booth. Andy cried too, quieter, with his head bent and both hands over his face.
After a minute, I asked, “Do you want to be in Hope’s life?”
He looked up fast. “Yes. I absolutely do. I’ll be there for her. I just… I need help. We don’t have anyone else.”
I nodded. “All right. Then don’t disappear on her, Andy.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I swear I won’t.”
I drove home that evening, Andy following behind us in his truck. Paul was waiting in the driveway.
He saw Andy and pointed. “You!”
I shifted Hope higher in my arms. “You don’t get a say here, Paul.”
He ignored me. “You ruined my child’s life! Where is she now?!”
Andy went pale but held his ground. “No. Jen loved me. Your pride ruined the rest.”
Paul stepped toward him.
“Don’t,” I said.
He stopped.
I looked him straight in the face. “You kept telling me she was gone. She wasn’t. She was just somewhere your pride couldn’t reach.”
Paul opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I opened the front door. “Jennifer trusted me with Hope. Not you. Go to Amber, Paul.”
He left.
Inside, Andy stood awkwardly while I warmed a bottle. I handed it to him, and he took Hope.
“I’ll make us some dinner while you settle down,” I said.
Andy looked at me, eyes shining.
And in that quiet kitchen, with my granddaughter fed and her father still standing there, I understood this much:
Jen had come home. She’d sent me the piece of herself she loved most.
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