“Are you happy?” I ask, because nothing is more important to me than this little girl’s happiness.
She turns in my lap and places her hand on the exposed skin above my sweetheart neckline. “I am.”
“Good.” I squeeze her tightly, kissing her plump cheeks, careful not to smudge my lipstick or leave any behind.
Her fingers find my diamond pendant. “Brax and I have a question,” she says, sounding so grown-up.
“Anything, baby.”
She glances down for a second and shifts. “We want to know if we can call you Mom.”
My vision blurs. Never in a million years did I think this kid was going to ask me that question just before I walked down the aisle. My heart races, and my chest is so full of joy and love, I’m not sure my body can take much more.
“Would you like that?” I can barely get the words out without bursting into tears.
Tate nods. “We need a mommy.”
“You have one, sweetheart.” I brush her hair off her shoulder. “She may not be here with you, but she’ll always be yours.”
“Cole has two mommies.”
“Yes, he does,” I tell her, but I don’t say anything more. I reach out and cup her face in my hands. “I’d be the luckiest woman in the world to have you as a daughter, Tate. Nothing would make me happier.”
Her little body vibrates with excitement. “This is the best day ever.”
“It’s almost time,” Roger says from the doorway, looking stunning as always in his pristine and overpriced suit. “Are you ready?”
“One second,” I tell him before returning my full attention to Tate. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I love you, Tate.”
“I love you too, Mommy,” she says before wiggling out of my arms and dashing to the door right past Roger.
The tears I’ve somehow held in start to fall, growing in intensity as the power and importance of her last words hit me.
“Oh shit. Don’t cry. You’re going to mess up your makeup.” Roger stalks toward me, pulling a tissue from the box sitting on the table near the doorway.
“Did you hear her?” My words come out garbled because my face is scrunched up in the worst ugly-cry expression ever. It’s not pretty, and I’m glad she waited to say those words until we were alone.
Roger nods. “Kid’s got timing.” He laughs as he bends down and hands me the tissue.
I press the soft cotton to my face, careful not to smear my makeup, which I’m sure is already running down my face. Roger reaches into his jacket and fishes out two envelopes.
“I have two letters for you today.”
My eyebrows rise, and I know the floodgates are about to break wide open.
“One from your past and one from your future,” he says as he places them in my hand. “Take your time reading them. The people will wait.”
“Look at me,” I say through my tears, noticing the mascara all over the tissue.
“I’ll get Martin back here. He’s the best drag makeup artist in Chicago. He can fix your face.”
I laugh and cry at the same time, tightening my hold on the envelopes.
“Breathe, Tilly.”
I inhale, trying to calm myself down, even though there’s no use. Whatever’s inside these envelopes will undoubtedly do nothing to make the tears stop falling.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Roger pats my hands before walking toward the door.
