Page 59 of Promise

As I enter the house with Mirabelle in the car seat over one arm and two sacks of groceries over the other, I hear something heavy being dragged or shifted against the floor upstairs.

“Dart?” I call out.

“In Mirabelle’s room.”

I set the groceries down in the kitchen but leave Mirabelle in her car seat because she’s sleeping.

Lugging the car seat up the stairs, I find Dart where he said.

In the past week, he has tackled painting Mirabelle’s room. He’d picked out a bunch of color samples before he ever knew about the adoption. His favorite was daisy yellow, but the choice was mine.

I approved.

The room is sweet with that bright shade of yellow. A white crib is assembled. The changing table was already in here, along with a white dresser that had been mine as a child. Dart found butterfly and daisy decals to decorate one wall, giving it the appearance of a summer meadow.

And presently, he stands in front of a soft-green padded chair. I set Mirabelle’s car seat down on the floor.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” Dart waves toward the seat.

“Dart,” I whisper, my throat thick as my belly flips. I stare at the piece of furniture.

“I picked it out a few days after I got here, but the delivery was delayed.”

“It’s . . . it’s beautiful.” I continue to stare at the simple gift. A chair.

“And it rocks.” He steps closer to the chair and pushes the back, causing it to tip back and forth. “It also reclines. Try it out.”

He sets his hands on my upper arms and guides me to take a seat. I practically fall into the plush cushion, then glide backward and melt in the comfort. The material is as soft as the color, which complements the meadow theme.

“This was so thoughtful of you,” I admit, tipping my head back and staring up at him. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“I missed Mother’s Day.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to be a mother.” I chuckle while I glance at the miracle that Mirabelle is. Her little head is tilted awkwardly in the car seat, but she’s sound asleep.

“Still, I’d hoped it would arrive sooner.”

I glance back at Dart and run my palms over the padded armrests. “This was so sweet of you. Thank you.”

Dart lowers to a knee in front of me. “You deserve it, Trinity. You deserve her, and she’s so lucky to have you as her mother.”

“Dart,” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

“I don’t know how you feel,” he continues. “Because we never had one of our own. But Mirabelle is yours,” he reiterates. “The love you feel for her is no different than if she came from your body or not.”

I choke on his name again, a tear slipping free.

“And she loves you. She knows who you are to her. Her mother.”

Another tear falls, but a choked giggle escapes as well. “I’m so lucky,” I whisper.

“She’s lucky, too.” He glances over his shoulder, smiling affectionately at the little bundle scrunched up in the car seat.

Then he gazes back at me. “I don’t want you to ever have regrets, Trin. Not about anything.” His whiskey eyes are darker today. Sober and still.

Has he thought about that kiss as much as I have?

“You mean about that kiss last night?” I sheepishly ask and lower my head.