We drive to the elementary school in comfortable silence, Maddie humming along to the radio while I try to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. The parking lot is already full when we arrive, and I can hear the sounds of the fair drifting across the playground. Music. Laughter. The distant squeal of children on carnival rides.
I help Maddie out of the car, and she immediately spots her teacher near the entrance.
"Miss Rodriguez!" she yells, running ahead.
I follow at a slower pace, scanning the crowd for Piper. I don't see her yet, but I feel the anticipation humming under my skin.
And then I see her. She’s standing near the face painting booth, camera in hand, capturing shots of kids with butterflydesigns on their cheeks. She’s wearing jeans and a soft green sweater that makes her eyes look even brighter, and her hair is loose around her shoulders.
She looks beautiful. She looks like she belongs here. The thought hits me with unexpected force.
Maddie sees her at the same moment I do and takes off running. "Piper!"
Piper turns, and her entire face lights up when she sees Maddie barreling toward her. She crouches down just in time to catch her in a hug, and the sight of it does something painful and wonderful to my chest.
By the time I reach them, Piper is standing again with Maddie's hand firmly clasped in hers.
"Hi," she says, looking at me with a smile that makes my pulse skip.
"Hi," I reply, and I'm acutely aware of how much I've been looking forward to seeing her.
"This place is amazing," she says, gesturing to the fair around us. "I've already gotten some great shots."
"Even on your day off, you’re working," I tease.
"It’s not work if you love it," she replies.
Maddie tugs on her hand. "Piper, do you want to see my classroom? I've a picture on the wall!"
"I would love to see it," Piper says.
We follow Maddie inside, weaving through clusters of parents and teachers. The hallways are decorated with student artwork and science projects, and Maddie points out every single thing she has contributed with pride.
When we reach her classroom, she drags Piper over to a wall display where a drawing of a bakery is pinned front and center. It's unmistakably Spice Spice Baby, complete with stick figures labeled "Daddy, Maddie," and "Evan."
And there, standing next to them, is a figure labeled "Piper."
My throat tightens. Piper stares at the drawing for a long moment, and when she looks at Maddie, her eyes are suspiciously bright.
"This is beautiful," she says softly. "Can I take a picture of it?"
Maddie nods enthusiastically, and Piper pulls out her phone to capture the image.
I step closer, lowering my voice. "She drew that before she even met you."
Piper looks at me, confused. "What?"
"She drew it the day before you arrived," I say. "She told me she dreamed about a cupcake fairy who was going to visit the bakery. I thought she was just being imaginative."
Piper's breath catches. "Dylan..."
"I know," I say quietly. "It's strange, but Maddie has always been like that. She knows things before they happen sometimes."
Piper looks back at the drawing, then at Maddie, who is now chattering with another little girl about the bounce house.
"She is special," Piper says.
"Yeah," I agree. "She is."
