"I’m open to having him back in my life. In our lives…" Emma says finally. "But Mom, you have to tell him—if he comes back, it's on our terms. No controlling. No dismissing Grant. No treating me like I'm stupid for loving him."
"I'll tell him." Helen looks at me, her expression fierce despite the tears. "Grant, I'm sorry. For everything you've been through with this. You deserved better from David."
I shake my head. "He was protecting his daughter. I understand that impulse."
I look down at Clara and James, at their impossibly small faces, and feel a surge of protectiveness so intense it's almost violent.
If someone hurt them, I'd burn the world down.
"But that doesn't make what he said okay," I continue. "And Helen, I need you to understand—I love your daughter. This isn't some temporary thing. This isn't me going through a midlife crisis or trying to recapture my youth. Emma is my partner. And I will not tolerate anyone treating her as less than she deserves. Not even David."
Helen's smile is watery but genuine. "Good. She needs someone who will stand up for her. Someone who sees her strength." She glances at Emma. "Someone who's not like me—I stayed quiet much too long."
The admission hangs in the air, heavy with years of regret.
"Mom—" Emma starts.
"No. Let me say this." Helen straightens her shoulders, and for just a moment, I see where Emma gets her steel. "I should have stood up to your father years ago. Should have protected you better. Should have showed you that marriage doesn't have to mean losing yourself. I didn't. And I'm sorry, sweetheart. So sorry."
"You did your best, Mom. I know that."
"My best wasn't good enough." Helen squeezes her daughter's shoulder. "But you—Emma, you're doing it right. Building a life with someone who respects you. Who supports your dreams instead of diminishing them. I'm so proud of you."
The tears are flowing freely now. Even I'm not immune, my eyes stinging as I watch Helen and Emma bridge the gap between them.
"I should go," Helen says after a moment. "Let you rest. But Emma, Grant—if you need anything. Anything at all. I'm here. And I'm going to keep working on your father."
"Thank you," Emma says softly.
Helen kisses her daughter's forehead, then mine, then bends to place gentle kisses on each twin's head.
She slips out of the room quietly, leaving us alone with our babies.
Emma leans against my shoulder, exhausted. "Do you think he'll really come around?"
"I don't know." I pick up one of the bears and study it. "But Emma, even if he doesn't, we're okay. You, me, and these two. We're enough."
"I know." She looks up at me. "I just—I want them to know their grandfather. The good parts of him. The parts that are worth knowing."
"They will. Someday. If he earns it." I kiss her temple. "But right now, let's just focus on us. On figuring out how to keep these two tiny humans alive."
Her laugh is shaky. "Are you scared?"
"Terrified, actually."
"Good. I'd hate to be the only one panicking."
James chooses that moment to start fussing again, his little face scrunching up. I take Clara from her arms and watch as Emma guides James to her breast using the techniques the lactation consultant taught her earlier.
The sight of her nursing our son—patient and focused despite her exhaustion—makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst.
This is my family.
Emma looks up at me over James's head, her expression soft. "What are you thinking about?"
"How lucky I am."
"Even though your best friend hates you and your ex-wife tried to destroy us?"
