Becca’s eyes widened in genuine delight. “That’s amazing, Mia! You must be so fast on the field.”
As Mia launched into a detailed account of her soccer exploits, I found myself studying Becca. There was something in her expression—joy tinged with sorrow. That side of the family was now missing so much of Mia’s life, all because of Jacob’s choices.
Marc’s hand slipped into mine, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my palm. The familiar gesture grounded me, reminding me that whatever Becca’s presence meant, we’d face it together.
“We’re so proud of her,” I heard myself saying, surprising even myself with the ‘we.’ But it was true. Somewhere along the line, Mia had become a part of my heart, my little girl.
Becca’s gaze flickered between Marc and me, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I can see that,” she said softly. “It’s wonderful to hear how well she’s doing.”
Another awkward pause. I wasn’t sure if the two of them needed some privacy to speak, now that Becca had seen Mia. “If you both need to talk, I can go hang out with Mia on the porch and order dinner for all of us.”
Marc stood. “No, Ken—I need you here right now.” He turned to Mia and added, “Mia, Papi and Ken need to talk to Aunt Beccaabout something important. Why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, okay?”
With a little head nod, Mia gave Marc and me another quick hug and then headed toward her bedroom. As soon as she was out of earshot, the unease in the room increased. “Sorry for all of this, babe,” Marc said to me, taking my hand in his. “Becca called this afternoon asking to talk to me in person. I told her that was fine, but I wanted us both to hear whatever news she had.”
Becca cleared her throat, her expression grave. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, guys. I wasn’t sure what else to do, but I didn’t want this conversation to be a phone call or a text message. You deserved to hear about this in person.”
My heart stopped in my chest. “Is this about Jacob?” I asked, glancing at Marc. His hand tightened on mine, a silent plea for strength. What had Marc’s ex-husband done now? Hadn’t Marc gone through enough already?
Becca shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with sadness. “No, it’s not about Jacob. It’s about our niece Melina.”
The name hit me like a physical blow. Melina—Mia’s birth mother. The young girl who had vanished from their lives years ago. What could she possibly want now?
“Melina?” Marc’s eyes widened. “What happened?” I heard the iciness in Marc’s voice and began to panic myself. No way she was trying to take Mia back after all these years.
Becca sighed, running a hand through her hair, visibly struggling to find the right words. “She resurfaced in El Paso, where our parents live. And—she had another child with her. A little boy, only eight weeks old.” The room fell silent. Marc’s grip on my hand tightened, his eyes wide with shock.
A baby?
Marc inhaled sharply. “She had another kid? But I thought…”
“I know,” Becca said softly, lifting her hands to her face. “It’s a mess. She’s a mess. We think she’s been incarcerated for thelast couple of years, that’s why we didn’t hear from her. And she’s still struggling with her addictions, that hasn’t gotten any better.” Becca exhaled a slow, deep breath. “A week ago, she left the baby with some friends of hers and skipped town. When it was clear that she wasn’t coming back, they contacted the police, who contacted Child Protective Services, who contacted my parents as the closest nearby relatives. They dropped him off with my mom yesterday, Marc.”
Marc sat frozen next to me.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “Is he okay?” I asked, clutching Marc’s hand.
“For now. I don’t think he’s had much medical care since he was born, and God knows what she was taking when she was pregnant. But yeah, he’s safe for the moment.” She caught both of our gazes. “Mom’s doing her best, but she’s in her seventies and has health issues of her own. She can’t keep up with a newborn.”
Marc’s face was ashen, his eyes filled with shock and sorrow. Holding his hand tight, I tried to help ground him with that simple touch.
“We had a family meeting this morning,” Becca continued, “and we all agree that the baby needs a stable, loving home. Someone who can give him the care and attention he deserves. We won’t let him slip into the foster system, not if we can help it. One of us will take care of him.” She looked at Marc, her expression serious. “Marc, despite all that happened with Jacob, we all consider you family, and can’t thank you enough for letting us still be a part of Mia’s life after what my brother did to you both.”
“None of that was your fault,” Marc murmured, clearly shaken by all of this.
Becca nodded. “Still, you have our thanks and support. And—” She took a deep breath. “As Mia’s father, we all agreed that youshould have the first chance to take him in, if that was something that you were at all interested in doing.” She smiled sadly. “He’s Mia’s brother, after all.”
Marc inhaled sharply, his grip on my hand tightening. So many emotions warring on his face—the desire to help, the fear of the unknown, the weight of responsibility.
But I knew Marc’s heart, knew the depth of his love for family and his commitment to doing what was right. He had taken in Mia without hesitation, when given the chance to raise her, and had loved her fiercely from the moment she was placed in his arms.
And I knew that he would do the same for this baby, if given the chance.
As if sensing my thoughts, Marc turned to me, his dark eyes searching mine. “What do you think about all this?”
I swallowed hard. We had been through so much together, had weathered storms that would have broken lesser relationships. But through it all, our love had only grown stronger. “What’s his name?” I asked Becca.
Becca gave a soft chuckle, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her photos. “Daniel.” She held it out for us to see, the small, red, scrawny face peeking out of a blanket.
