Erin laughs softly.
“School is exhausting her.” I lift her carefully. “I miss story time. Be right back.”
I carry her upstairs and tuck her into Lenzin’s bed; she can sleep in her new room tomorrow when the fumes aren’t fuming. She doesn’t even stir.
Downstairs, Erin stands in the doorway of my old room.
“So, I’m here?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re in his.”
“Yes.”
She nods once.
“Okay.”
We settle on the couch with plates balanced on our knees as the Vegas game begins.
On screen, Lenzin skates out. Even through broadcast quality, there’s stillness in him before puck drop
“You love him,” Erin says, not looking at me.
“Yes.”
“How did this happen?”
I exhale slowly. “September.”
And I tell her, about the charity event, about how he was measured and infuriatingly calm, about how he led me to put two and two together, about how I didn’t intend to fall, about how he made space for Lucy immediately, about how he never made me feel like I was stepping into his world, but like he was stepping into ours.
“And now twins,” Erin says softly.
“Yes.”
“And you’re not scared.”
“I am.”
I set my plate down. “I’m scared of it causing issues with custody.”
Erin turns toward me fully.
“She hasn’t reached out, which surprises me,” I say. “She’s too quiet, and now I’m public, and pregnant… living with a professional athlete.”
“You think she’ll try something.”
“I don’t know.”
Erin reaches into her tote. “I was waiting until we were alone.” She pulls out a manila envelope. “I received this two days ago. Yours and Lucy’s father signed this four days ago.”
My heart stutters as she hands it to me, and I open it. Relinquishment of custody, but only to me.
“He wanted out,” she says quietly. “You gave him an exit. He took it.”
My hands shake slightly as I read it again. “I didn’t reach out, but I’m grateful.”
