They sit in silence. Adam’s gaze shifts toward the street and the world moving just outside. Grace wonders for a second what he’s thinking about. If he’s imagining their past selves walking out there hand in hand. Or if he’s thinking instead about the future and how they’ll raise this child together but separate. If he’s remembering all the moments that got them here—the good ones, the hard ones—and if they were all necessary in order for them to throw out their old plans and create space for this new dream.
“We’ll make this work, Grace,” Adam says, suddenly sitting up straighter. “I know this situation isn’t ideal—certainly not one we ever planned on. But we’ll figure it out. Find our own version of normal. I plan to do my part. To be involved. I won’t leave you alone to navigate all this.” He clears his throat, evening out some of the emotion that made the last few words shake. “Things may not have worked out for the two of us,” he says, referencing their relationship, “but we’ll find a way to make it work for the three of us, okay?”
“Okay,” she says and nods. “That’s important. That all sounds good.”
“A-and I want you to stay in the house,” Adam says, jumping back in. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Once we speak to the attorney and have the papers drawn up, I plan to have that put in writing. I wantyou and the baby to be settled. I know you’re taking some time off from writing, but I’ll help and do whatever I need to do to make sure the two of you are—”
“I don’t want to stay there, Adam,” Grace tells him, grateful for his offer even though she knows it’s not the right path. “But I’ve been thinking about that part of things a lot, too. And though it’d probably be the most convenient option, I’m not sure it’s the right one. I need a fresh start.”
“Well, where will you go?”
“For the long term?” she asks. “I don’t know.” She takes the final sip of her beverage, then pushes it to the side. “But once we sort things out with our lawyers and the house sells—which I imagine it will rather quickly—I have somewhere to go for the short term.”
Adam’s brows lift in question as he waits to hear more details.
Grace takes one last look through the window, at this setting she once worked so hard to chase. She squints, like she’s looking for something. Or maybe someone. Some former version of herself out there, still searching on these streets. She takes a breath, then another, and fills her whole self up with air.
“I’m still working out the details.” She rests a soft palm on her belly while she looks at her reflection blending with the cityscape just beyond it. “But for the time being, I’m in the process of putting together a plan.”
After
Thirty-Three
One Year Later ...
Saturday
Before her eyes are even open, Grace smells it. The warm, comforting scent of vanilla and yellow batter, strong and enticing enough to tug her from her dream. She blinks herself fully awake, stretches, and pulls her body upright in the bed. The plush comforter still wrapped around her limbs, she straightens, presses her back against the upholstered headboard, and looks through the window. Outside, the sun shines with all the strength of August. A pod of children creates chalk drawings on the sidewalk. A woman walks a dog. A pleasantly predictable morning in their sleepy Pennsylvania neighborhood.
There’s a quiet knock on the bedroom door, then a pause before it creaks open.
“Breakfast is ready.” Jenny pops her face around the doorframe. “I should warn you, Charlie dumped half a container of rainbow sprinkles into the batter.” She laughs. “I guess it’s his version of a cake, since we won’t see you on your actual birthday in a few days.”
Grace rubs her face, smiles. “I’m sure they’re delicious.”
Jenny steps into the room, dressed in a pair of running shorts and sneakers, like she’s already lived a whole life this morning. “You slept in,” she says, not in a judgmental way, but just as a fact. “Late night?”
“A little.” Grace leans over to look inside the bassinet that sits comfortably beside the bed. “He was a bit fussy,” she says, just as the baby starts to stir. “I probably should have set an alarm and gotten on the road by now.” She smiles down at her son as he opens his eyes. “I’ll pay for it, sitting in bridge traffic this afternoon.”
“It’ll be worth it.” Jenny peers lovingly at the baby, gently touches his wisps of soft blond hair. “You both need your rest.”
Downstairs, the sounds of children playing, shouting, and laughing fill the house with a happy mayhem that Grace has been grateful to be part of these last six months.
“Eric plans to put the crib together while you’re away.” Jenny moves back toward the hallway. “When you get back, he’ll put the bassinet back up in the attic after you’re done using it this week.”
“Thank you,” Grace says, her heart so full of appreciation for her friend. For this life. For everything.
“Speaking of which, is Adam still planning to come again next Sunday?”
Grace nods. “That’s the plan,” she says. “He doesn’t like to go more than two weeks without seeing the little guy. Plus, he mentioned that he picked up a bunch of fall clothes—a little jacket and stuff—that he wants to make sure to give me before the seasons turn.”
“Great,” Jenny says and smiles, pleased by this news.
For a moment, they’re quiet, a whole story passing between them. Nearby, the baby softly coos.
“Oh, one other thing before I forget,” Jenny states. “Those town houses, the new ones up the street. I saw on my run earlier that they’refinallydone with construction on the development. They had a sign posted that they’re going to start renting them out later this fall.” She leans against the wood trim. “Would you like me to call and make an appointment so we can go see them together after Labor Day?”
“Sure.” Grace lifts her son and places him on her shoulder, his head warm and perfect against her neck. “That’d be great.”
