AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We are in the process.”
“Well, they’re your children once adopted. That makes them eligible for family trust funds.”
“Let me guess. Grandma protected an adoption classification for this?”
“It wasn’t grandpa,” Dad says and smiles. “Listen, I’m sorry about how your Mom reacted. She doesn’t understand what you’re doing here. With all this . . .” he trails off and whirls his hand in the air, motioning to the space around us. “I don’t think I fully do either, but I know it’s a good thing. I can’t promise I’ll see them as my grandchildren, but I want to try.”
“You do?”
Dad’s shoulders relax, and I see the walls he’s put up between us start to crumble. “I do. You think I could meet them?”
“They’d love that,” I say. “But not today. I have to speak with Rory first. You understand?”
“I do. I’m here until Tuesday. I would love to meet them before I leave.”
“I’m sure I can make that happen.”
We stand, and for a moment, neither of us knows what to do. I clear my throat and offer him my hand.
Dad laughs and pushes it away. He takes me into his arms. “I know I don’t understand you. But I do love you.”
This is probably the first hug he’s offered since I was sick, and the only ‘I love you’ I’ve ever gotten from him that I can remember. I sniffle into his shirt. “Love you too, Dad.”
Pilar and Dadare gone by the time Rory picks the kids and me up at the gym. Nayeli and Miles run up to him the second they see him.
“Dad! Dad!” Miles squeals. “I got Nayeli! Just the once. But it counts.”
“Bet it does, buddy.” He musses Miles’s hair and hunches down to hug him.
“I was distracted,” says Nayeli.
“Sure you were,” Rory says, and Nayeli wraps her arms around his middle. “Anybody up for some ice cream? Maybe we can go to the park afterward?”
Both kids bounce with excitement, and both scream, “Yes!”
“Let me just lock up,” I say. “Wait in the car.”
We get our ice cream,then head over to the park. Nayeli and Miles go straight for the playground, and Rory and I sit on a bench where I fill him in on everything that happened that day.
When I’m done, he says, “Wish I could’ve been there.”
I’m still dazed as I try to process everything Dad said. “Me too. Well?” I ask. “Are you okay with Dad getting to know the kids?”
He shifts in his seat and faces me. “Maybe,” he says. “Only if he’s serious. I don’t want to introduce anyone into their lives who doesn’t plan on being there for the long haul.”
“I don’t think Mom will ever get on board, but I have to say, Dad looked sincere. I get the sense he has some regrets in life.”
“Let me talk to him. We can go from there. But if he is serious, I have no problem with the kids knowing their other grandpa.”
I squeeze Rory’s hand. “Thank you,” I say.
Rory scoots over to wrap an arm around me. He still uses the same aftershave from when we first met, and I take in the comforting smell of sandalwood and suede. My husband hasn’t changed much over the years. He started working out more when I opened the gym to spend time with me, and he has bulked up a little. The hints of wrinkles barely begin to play around his beautiful green eyes, and he is not allowed to shave his beard. He is as handsome as he has ever been.
And he is a fantastic father. Because he is involved with our local foster care agency, he understands how slim adoption chances get the longer a child stays in the system—that’s why he wants Nayeli and Miles. The older they get, the fewer chances they have to be adopted. They took to calling him Dad fairly quickly, not that it was a contest. It would have been a contest if they’d called me Mom first, but they didn’t. Rory doesn’t let me forget that.
Our kids didn’t laugh when they first got to us. It broke our hearts. We watch them now when they play, and all the laughter they can’t help but let out, and I know both our hearts are soaring.
For our part, Rory and I have a wonderful, healthy marriage. We could live our lives afraid of Rory’s heart patch giving out or of my cancer coming back, but instead, each morning we wake up and choose to cherish each other and our time together like the privilege the gift of time is.
“So,” Rory says, breaking my thoughts. “You’re a millionaire? And so are the kids?”
I burst out laughing, and he joins me with his own laughter. “Yeah. Guess we are. And so are you, Dr. Dennis.”
The End
