My arms burn under the weight of the diaper bag, my exhaustion just as heavy as the thousand necessities I'm carrying to keep a tiny human alive. Each inch I take from the car through the front door is a reminder of the load I carry. Mason, Anna nestled in his arms like a prop for a family portrait, strides ahead.
“You’re here!” Margaret rushes forward, arms already outstretched, reaching for the baby. Gary swoops in to take the gear from me. Relief hits the moment I step into the warmth of my in-laws’ house, into their quiet care. For the next week, their help will be freely given. No need to beg. No need to plead.
Two people giving without expectation.
Looking at the little bundle wrapped in her grandmother’s arms, I can’t help but think back to the first moment I saw Anna. All the fears I’d carried about motherhood, about becoming my mother, dissolved in an instant: I knew I’d do anything to keep her safe. Give her everything I could.
She became my focus. My salvation. Any hope I’d had that Anna might bridge the divide between Mason and me vanished during the long months that followed.
A year of pregnancy and childbirth, set against the backdrop of a global pandemic, stripped us bare. With COVID raging and nowhere to hide, we weretrapped in the same space, again and again. What had once been easy to ignore became impossible to miss.
Especially now, as I meet the green eyes I’ve spent countless nights dreaming about.
James stands by the window, silhouetted against the pale winter light, a steaming mug cradled in his hands, wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. His gaze drops, moving over me slowly. I know what he's seeing—the way my body has changed since Anna, how my clothes fit differently now. From the way his jaw tightens, he's not unaffected. The moment stretches long enough to pulse through me, everywhere.
“James, come meet Anna.” Ivy’s voice calls, and I finally tear my eyes away from him. She’s watching, a hint of something flashing in her stark blue eyes.
The family hasn’t gotten together since last Christmas. COVID forced Tom and Jules to withdraw for a while, focusing on their patients and the mechanics of being doctors while caring for the boys when their school closed. I begged Mason to leave D.C., retreat here during the worst of lockdown. He wouldn’t hear of leaving the city, as if our proximity would magically make it reopen. We stayed, with only silence and the news filling the space. Margaret and Gary visited after Anna was born, but they’d sequestered themselves for weeks beforehand to ensure they weren’t sick upon meeting her. Ivy didn’t come, but that isn’t surprising.
“Is Anna a family name?” James asks.
“Annabelle. After my grandmother,” Mason beams. His smile for the audience never falters, though he slept through the 2 AM and 5 AM feedings last night. And the night before. And every night since Anna was born.
“I see,” James says, and something in his tone makes me glance up. He’s smiling. Sly. “Annabelle. Not AnnaKarenina?”
A smile escapes before I can stop it.
That’s why ultimately I gave in. People thinkAnna Kareninais tragic. But to me, she’s brave. A woman who refused to play by the rules. Who wanted more. Who refused to settle.
Everything I could want for my daughter.
But I can’t say any of that. And I can’t think about the warmth pooling in my chest at how quickly he caught the reference.
Instead, I pivot: “How has COVID affected your projects?”
“Like everything else, we were delayed. But one of my favorites finally broke ground. I helped design a new music hall along the harbor.” He pauses and takes a sip from his mug. “The goal is to create a state-of-the-art amphitheater where artists of every genre can play without fighting the acoustics of a massive stadium.”
“Even country artists?” I quip, remembering our debate last winter.
“The real test will be pouring some smoky R&B through the space.” His voice drops on those words, and for a moment, I’m back at that fire pit, the moon shining bright, words loaded with meaning.
And I make the utterly unforgivable mistake of looking at him.
That smile.
Thatdevastatingsmile that hits like a memory and makes my insides twist.
Jules appears from nowhere, throwing her arms around me. “Who are you kidding? You love R&B. Why are you pretending to listen to country?”
“Okay, okay,” I laugh, trying to play it off. But the heat flaring up my neck gives me away. “Maybe I have a secret love for R&B.”
“I knew it.” James chuckles, eyes dancing. “Any other secrets you want to share, Sydney?”
I half-hide in my oversized turtleneck, hands tucked deep into the sleeves as if that might stop the heat blooming in my chest. Anna’s small coo draws my attention. A welcome reminder of what matters now, of the tiny person who depends on me entirely. I feel the tight, thin rubber band gripping my wrist. Angling my body away from the others, I pull it hard. Once. Twice. Three times. The sharp sting grounds me. Calls me back. Snaps me back to my reality.
Mason’s seen it. I know he has. I’ve done it right in front of him, but if he’s wondered what I’m doing, he hasn’t asked. He looks past it as he looks past me.
“Syd, it’s honestlyunfairhow good you look already.” Ivy’s hand lands on my arm.
