Despite the sadness in his voice, I caught a hint of a smile.
Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “She saved me. From the utter blackness of loss, she made me whole again with her endless questions and boundless energy and that irresistiblegiggle. Every time I thought I couldn’t handle one more day, she’d do something that reminded me there was still joy in the world. And she reminded me of Sarah and David—so, so much. She still does.”
My chest felt tight. The love in his voice when he talked about Debbie, the way he’d taken on the responsibility of raising her while dealing with his own profound loss—it made me see him in a completely different way.
“You’re an incredible father,” I said. “You know that, right?”
He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m winging it most days, but she makes it easy to love her.” He paused, then added, “Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you something. It’s kind of a big deal, but I didn’t want to say anything until Debbie agreed to it.”
This sounded profound—and slightly terrifying.
“Um, okay.”
He stopped walking again and turned so that our shoulders were squared. The way he looked up at me, into my eyes, there was no faltering or weakness or the lack of confidence too often written in his features. Whatever this was, he was firm in his conviction—and appeared happy about it.
“I’m making it official.”
I cocked my head. “You’re making what official?”
He smiled. “Adoption. I’ve been Debbie’s legal guardian since the accident. My thought was that I would adopt her when she was old enough to understand what it meant. As much as I love her, I never wanted to make that kind of decision without her. I know she’s only five, but she gets it. She knows it’s a big deal.”
I stared, not sure I got it. It felt like a huge deal, like a life-altering, amazing, incredible deal. It felt . . . permanent, which I supposed it was, being adoption and all.
“I asked her permission last weekend. Had this whole serious conversation about wanting to become her ‘forever daddy,’ asshe put it. She said yes, of course, but I needed her to understand what it meant.”
I ran a hand through my hair, buying time to process it all.
“How does that even work?” I asked, genuinely curious. “The legal side of it, I mean.”
“It’s definitely been a process,” Theo said, turning and resuming our lazy pace. “I’ve been working on it for nearly a year. There’s been background checks, home studies, and mountains of paperwork taller than my house. We have a court hearing in a couple of weeks where the judge will hopefully grant the adoption, and then . . . that will be that. She’ll officially be mine . . . or as she would probably put it, I’ll be hers.”
“That’s incredible—and nerve-wracking, I imagine.”
“Terrifying isn’t a strong enough word,” he admitted. “Not because I have any doubts about wanting her, but because it’s so important. We’re already family in every way that matters, but having the legal protection, knowing that no one can ever question my right to be her father . . .” He shook his head and choked out, “It means everything.”
I squeezed his hand again, and this time, he squeezed back. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“I think we’re lucky to have each other.”
His phone chimed, and he pulled it out and flicked the screen to life.
“We should head back,” he said with obvious reluctance. “Julia’s been there since six, and I don’t want to take advantage of her patience.”
I hated for the night to end but nodded and turned us to head back to where my car was parked. The drive back to his house felt too short. We talked about books and plans for the weekend and whether Debbie might want to visit the bookstore sometime. It was everything and nothing, the kind of conversation thatflowed easily between people who’d grown comfortable with each other.
When I pulled into his driveway, the soft glow of lamps shone through the living room window. Julia was probably reading on the couch while Debbie slept upstairs, the picture of domestic tranquility.
I walked Theo to his door, both of us moving slowly.
“Thank you,” Theo said softly, turning to face me. “For tonight. It really was perfect.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” I reached up and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead, the gesture more intimate than anything we’d done all evening.
He leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft and warm and completely focused on me.
I leaned in and kissed him, slow and tender, pouring all the feelings I couldn’t quite name into the press of my lips against his. He melted into my arms with a soft sigh, and then his hands were gripping my jacket with a desperation that caught me completely off guard. He held me like I might disappear, like I was something precious he was afraid of losing. The intensity of it, the raw need in the way he clung to me, filled my heart with a joy so profound it was almost overwhelming.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
