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I follow her into the mostly dark room save for one night light. Sofia stands over the crib, watching Addy’s little chest rise and fall with each breath, her puny hands balled up at her sides. I wrap my arms around Sofia from behind until her head leans back on my chest, and I squeeze her tight.
We stand there for a long moment looking at our daughter, because yes, Addy already feels like mine, even if I can’t admit it to Sofia—or to myself.
I can’t say it out loud because I’m a coward and afraid. I’m afraid not so much because of Finn, but afraid to lose them—afraid to lose the family I’m clinging to. “It’ll get better. I promise,” I whisper into her ear. Sofia only nods. “Would you like to decorate this room? Maybe something Addy will like better?” I try to lighten the subject and redirect her emotions.
“No,” Sofia says. “This is perfect.”
“White walls?”
She nods and breaks free from my embrace. She walks over to a small table next to the changing table I had Andreas buy (prebuilt) and clicks a button on a projector.
A constellation of stars floods the dark room with changing light colors from red to green, then blue and purple, rotating every ten seconds. Every inch of her room is covered in constellations with colorful nebulas.
Sofia smiles wide at me—stars spanning the length of her face. “Easiest and cheapest decorating device ever,” she says. “And Addy goes nuts for it.”
“You’ve been really resourceful, haven’t you?” I ask.
Sofia nods. “I have to be.”
My heart squeezes when I think of everything I could have given them if only I had known of Addy’s existence. I know Sofia is a smart businesswoman, but the fact that she had to sell half her bar told me she did that because she had to provide for someone else on top of her mother and grandmother. She’s been tight with money when I could have offered them the world.
I’m such an ass.
* * *
By lunchtime the next day,Sofia is back to normal. She doesn’t bring up Emma again after I reassure her that I will not be connecting with her ever again, which she seems to believe, so the strain lifts from both our shoulders.
Addy sits next to me in her highchair, squishing banana between her fingers and playing with the fruit before eating it from her hands. Babies are a mess.
Sofia and I order Pad Thai from a restaurant nearby after I convince her she should take a break from cooking for a day and relax. The afternoon starts off easy, and I could get used to having my family at my table every damn day of my life.
But the mood shifts when both mine and Sofia’s phones ping with a text message from the lab informing us the results are in and have been emailed to both of us.
Sofia pushes her plate away, her eyes glued to the screen in her hands. “You got the message?” she asks.
I nod. “Sofia. Look at me, please.” When she does, her eyes are glistening, and I want to lunge forward over the table and take her in my arms to beg her not to cry, but I can’t. I swallow the lump in my throat hard, but my throat is dry. “I’m sorry, I have to know, I—”
“I know, Bren,” she says. “I don’t begrudge your need to know. I understand. And if I’m wrong, Finn has to know.”
I nod again and scroll through my phone until I find the email from the lab. Next to me, Addy giggles and outstretches her hand, full of mashed banana, in a way that seems like an offering, and I laugh. When I don’t take it, she shoves it in her mouth and blinks at me. God, I need this little girl to be mine. I love her. And I love her mom.
Looking up at Sofia, and with a shaky voice, I speak again. “Please forgive me for this, Sofia.” I open the email.
I skim through the first page that includes Addy’s and my full name and some laboratory numbers until I get to the section I need to read:
Conclusion: Based on our analysis, it is proven with >99.9999% certainty that Mr. Brenner Reindhart is the biological father of Audrey Michelle Ocampo Reindhart.
My sight gets blurry with the welling tears, and my gaze snaps up to Addy. Her little head cocks to the side as she looks at me, and I stand to pick her up in my arms. I hold her tight and don’t even care when a tear rolls down my cheek.
My eyes draw closed as I let the news sink in. “You’re my little girl,” I whisper as I rock her in my arms from side to side. “And I’m going to protect you from the world,” I promise.
“Can you watch her? I need a minute,” Sofia says.
“Sure.”
She hurries to the guest bathroom, and when she takes too long, Addy and I make our way to the door to make sure she’s okay, but the sobbing makes it past the door before we even reach it.
I knock softly. “Sofia, please. Come out here.”
