He rushed over at once, squeezing himself between Lina and Caroline. “I wanted to come closer, but I couldn’t stop crying!” he sobbed. Then his gaze dropped to Nicholas. “My god, he’s so wrinkly,” he managed through the tears, “but he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s someone else waiting for you outside,” Anita said softly. “She didn’t want to come in unless you said it’s okay.”
I looked at her. “Is it my mother?” I asked, surprised she knew.
Anita nodded. “I called her,” she admitted quietly. “I hope I didn’t overstep, but I thought you might want her here. If not, I’ll tell her it can wait.”
I let her words sink in. She was right. As much as I had been hurt, as much as I tried to protect myself, I still wanted my mother here. When I remarried Cameron, already four months pregnant, I had thought of inviting her. The wedding had been small, held in Anita’s backyard, and we had only invited those very close to us.
But she couldn’t come anyway. She had sent a letter through Anita to tell me that she had already left town, hiding from my father while the divorce was underway. She was determined to leave him, and she had.
Maybe it was because Nicholas had been born. Perhaps it was because, no matter how battered, the bond between mother and daughter never truly disappeared. I wanted her to see her grandson.
“Yes,” I whispered at last. “Please, tell her to come in.”
When I glanced at Cameron, his gaze had softened, his nod telling me he understood.
“I’ll bring her in,” he said, then slipped out.
Moments later, my mother stepped inside. She moved slowly, her face a storm of emotions, and I saw her—vulnerable, undone, and overwhelmed by the significance of this moment.
Her eyes met mine before falling to the baby in my arms. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched—weighty, yet not hollow—carrying years of hurt and love bound together. When she finally reached the bedside, her hand trembled as it brushed the edge of the blanket.
It felt like an echo of the past as well. I remembered the way she looked when she first saw Harper in my arms, a rare moment when her usual stoicism cracked and vulnerability slipped through.
“He’s so lovely,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “So lovely, Sloane. Thank you… Thank you for letting me see him.”
“You can hold him, if you’d like,” I said softly.
Her face lit with gratitude as she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.”
I placed Nicholas gently in her arms, and the moment he was nestled against her, she broke down, sobbing harder. “Thank you, honey,” she wept. “I don’t have the words. This means everything to me. I’ll be here for you. I will. I promise you I will.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and without a word, everyone seemed to step back, giving the moment to us. Cameron circled to the other side of the bed and quietly took my hand, his fingers curling around mine in a gentle, grounding squeeze.
This moment, suspended in the tender calm of the recovery room, etched itself into my soul. Our family felt perfectly complete, and everything was steeped in a joy so pure it seemed untouchable. I knew, with a certainty that sank deep into my bones, that this would be my anchor—a memory I would return to again and again, a compass inscribed on my heart, its needle forever pointing me back to this peace.
Whatever the future held, I would always have this truth: that I was immeasurably blessed, and that here lay the foundation of a lifetime of happiness.
“Don’t go too far!” I called to three-year-old Nicholas as he tore across the playground. “Stay close to your sister!”
But the two of them only laughed, running hand in hand toward the mini slide as if the wind carried away my words.
“Relax,” Caroline said, stretching her legs out and leaning back against the bench’s backrest. We sat nearby, my eyes never leaving the kids as I watched closely. “Their cousins are with them. They’ll take care of the babies.” She paused, chuckling. “See? Jace is already running toward them.”
I laughed too, spotting Jace, Caroline’s eldest, sprinting across the playground and shouting for my kids to wait before climbing the slide. He was so protective of his family. Caroline had raised a good son.
Then I saw Anita and my mother making their way toward them, accompanied by Caroline’s other children, Aurel and Corvin. They moved together through the playground, laughter and chatter spilling into the air around them.
“Where’s Lina?” she asked. Our regular once-a-month family lunch was coming up in an hour, and we usually invited Lina, who never missed it. She didn’t have much family of her own, so our gatherings were the closest thing she had. This time, we had booked an Italian restaurant near the mall that Anita loved. We had arrived early, so the kids could play in the outdoor playground first.
“Lunch date,” I said. “Out of town, apparently.”
“With Caleb or Gabriel?”
I laughed again. “She wouldn’t say.”
“I’m betting on Caleb,” Caroline mused. “He told me he had somewhere to be when I called about lunch this morning.”
