Page 47 of Promise

Holding my gaze on Stone, I will him to read my thoughts. I’m not under distress. Maybe a little confused by the husband-who-I-thought-was-my-ex, but I’m not afraid of him. A bit baffled by this outward display of affection, but not in fear of Dart. Not physically.

Stone tips his chin to accept my answer. “Okay, then. Just wanted to pass along the good news in person.” He glances at Cassidy. “And apparently this new development . . . Dart . . . will help speed things up.”

“Should be rather easy to mitigate,” Cassidy states, offering Stone a confident smile before giving me another one. Her gaze dips toward Dart, pleased by this new development as Stone called him.

“Of course, we’ll need to run a background check on you as well, Mr. . . .”

“Rivers,” Dart offers, sitting up straighter like he’s being called on in a classroom. “Run all the checks you need.”

“Wonderful. I’d predict three months and Mirabelle will be all yours.”

“Three months,” I repeat, a whisper full of both shock and relief. I hadn’t expected things to happen so quickly. I’d been braced for a year at best, but this . . . three months . . .

I glance down at Mirabelle. Her eyes open and staring back at me. Awe in those little eyes, watching me, observing.

Are You My Mother? It’s a famous children’s book about a little bird looking for his parent. Without even knowing the term mother, I hope Mirabelle senses who I am. Who I want to be.

I might not have grown her inside me, tucked beneath my heartbeat for nine months. But my heart does beat for her. From the moment I held her in my arms, and the reality of the situation hit, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for this child. No fight I wouldn’t fight to keep her with me.

I’m reminded of the moment I first found her, uncertain who she was and who she belonged to, but once I read that letter, and re-read it, and then this same social worker sat across from me, Stone at her side, and my mother at mine, I knew . . . Mirabelle belonged to me. And I belonged to her.

Yes, whispers through my head at her, like she can read my thoughts. I am your mother.

And everything will be legal and binding, and official in three months.

That calendar date and formal papers only make it certifiable.

In my heart, in my soul, where it really matters most, I already am Mirabelle’s mom.

I glance back at Cassidy, blink at the sudden well of tears in my eyes.

“Wonderful,” I parrot her, a breathless wisp of relief shoving aside the surprise.

Cassidy abruptly stands, holding open her arms, and I step into them, still a little stiff with shock, but also appreciating her hug.

“Congratulations.” In a rare show of affection, Stone wraps an arm around me as well and tugs me to his side.

“You okay?” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still aimed at Dart.

“I’m . . . amazing,” I answer, because I’m still a bit stunned at the incredible turn of events.

As for Dart, well, that’s still to be determined.

But as they exit, and Dart gives them a final wave before closing the front door, I realize that the adoption timeline might not have zipped forward without his presence.

A couple adopting a child always looks better than a single mom.

No shade to single women or single parenting, just that studies have proven two parents can be better than one.

The second the door is shut and the lock twirls, my heart skips for a new reason.

Dart doesn’t hold back from jumping in, staring at me with the deepest expression of pain I think I’ve ever seen on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were adopting?”

The casual shrug feels like a reflex. A brush off of the uncertainty, when the real answer is I was being petty. I wanted him to hurt in some way, like he’d hurt me.

I knew the conclusion he’d drawn. He thought I’d been with someone else. A true blow to his ego and our marriage. The one I didn’t know we still had. I should be equally pissed at him. Turn his previous upset around on him, but the gash of hurt across his face stops me.