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Then there’s the financial implications attached to it all. Do I need to help pay for the outside medical treatments?
Does my sister have insurance for her son and herself?
It doesn’t matter, I remind myself. If Izzy doesn’t have coverage, I’ll let Gabe pay the bills. They need all the help they can get. For now, I’ll focus on the task at hand. I’m feeding Caleb. His tiny fingers clasp firmly around mine. When he’s done with the formula, Gabe takes the baby, gently burping him. Watching them, something inside me just . . . shifts. Gabe, being all gentle and paternal, looks a million times more . . . everything. The sight of them together squeezes my heart.
“What if Izzy doesn’t recover enough to care for them?” I ask worriedly.
Cora suffered neglect for too long already. And Caleb . . . The unfairness of the whole situation doesn’t sit well. It makes me ache for them, but also want to give them everything they were deprived of.
But can I even give them what they need? Erasing their pain and showing them the love they deserve?
“Then we’ll adopt them,” Gabe says, like it’s a simple fact. “Make sure they grow up cherished, without ever doubting they are loved.”
Adopt them? Raise them as our own? The notion terrifies and exhilarates me all at once. But is it actually possible, after everything? Could we be the parents they need?
Can Gabe and I get over our past? My head spins with the unanswered questions and the fear about tomorrow. I can’t think about falling in love with Gabriel again.
Chapter Nineteen
Ameline
I’m frozen, staring at Gabe, barely able to breathe. His suggestion to adopt my niece and nephew is so sudden, so intense. Did he realize how strong his words came across?
Gabe kisses the top of Caleb’s head, breaking the silence. “It’s just a suggestion,” he says softly. “Or did you want me to say something else? Like, we’ll help Izzy be the mom she needs to be?”
I find myself nibbling my lip, still processing his words, still locked in his gaze.
Gabe whispers, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “I’m not sure what you want me to say.” He continues rocking Caleb back and forth with so much love it makes me wonder if he would’ve done the same with our girl. “But I’ll do anything in my power to ensure that you and the kids are okay. That’s a promise.”
I hear him, but all I can focus on is our baby. Just thinking of her makes my heart stutter. Why do other children deserve to have me when she didn’t?This is why I plan on being childless for the rest of my life. It’s best for everyone.
The words finally find their way out of my throat. “I don’t think I can be a mother,” I admit. “My examples of motherhood were . . . pretty terrible. And you and I . . .”
“We’re broken up?” he asks and the pain in his voice squeezes my heart.
“You abandoned me.” The words spill out, heavier than I intend them to be. “And how do you get past the fact that our daughter is dead? How is it fair to give a family and love to other children when she’ll never have any of that?”
Gabe’s eyes close briefly, drawing in a deep breath, as if to gather his thoughts and strength. When he opens them again, they’re filled with so much pain. I ache to console him, but stay in place. “Since the moment you left . . . I had no idea how badly I had treated you, but I can guarantee you that I have regretted all my actions. I thought I was doing what was best for us.
“Everything I did then, and everything I do now, is in her memory. Because I’m sure she would have wanted her siblings to be healthy. Because I hope she’s proud of her father, who tries to save mothers like hers so they can have children.” Gabe exhales harshly, his breath ragged with pain. His gaze shifts to Caleb, then back to me. “In my mind, our daughter is just like you. Selfless and loving. She would want us to care for her cousins and share her family with them. It’s not about forgetting her but celebrating her while we’re alive.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, stirring a storm of emotions within me. The mention of our daughter, the pain and love in his voice for her, it’s overwhelming. Tears start to well up, blurring my vision. A single tear escapes, trailing down my cheek, followed by another, and then another. The dam breaks, and I’m crying openly, each tear a mix of grief, love, and a deep sense of loss.
The tears keep coming, unstoppable, as everything he’s said sinks in.
His confession, his longing to honor our daughter’s memory, it’s both heart-wrenching and strangely healing. I cry for our past, for our daughter, for the life we could have had, and for the future. It’s a release of so many pent-up emotions, a catharsis that leaves me feeling raw but strangely lighter.
When I finally muster the courage to look up at him, my voice breaks through the tears. “Alisson.”
“What?” Gabe’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“I named her Alisson,” I mumble, my voice barely audible, my gaze dropping to the floor. “I call her Aly.”
“Aly,” he says, his voice soft, a tender smile touching his lips. “I think it’s perfect, like her.”
“But I’ll never be able to hold her,” I choke out, the sobs racking my body even harder.
Gabe handles Caleb with gentle care, placing him back in the crib. He does so with precision, ensuring all the tubes, cables, and monitors are properly arranged. Once he’s done, he turns to me, his arms open and inviting.
