The words hit me square in the chest.Granddaughter.Not by blood, but by choice. By the life Stephen and I were building together.
“I’d love to,” I whispered.
Grace carefully transferred the baby into my arms, and I cradled her close, supporting her head the way I did when Judith was born, and later Pati. She was so light, so warm, her little chest rising and falling with each breath. One tiny fist escaped the blanket, fingers curling and uncurling.
“Hello, sweet girl,” I murmured, my voice breaking. “Hello, Hartley.”
She made a small sound, not quite a cry, and her eyes fluttered open for just a moment, dark and unfocused, searching. Then she settled back into sleep, her body relaxing against me.
I looked up to find Stephen watching me, his expression unreadable but intense. Grace was smiling, tears streaming down her face. King had his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, my own tears spilling over. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“She is,” Grace agreed. “And she’s so lucky. She’s going to have so many people who love her.”
We stayed for an hour, passing the baby around, talking about the delivery and Grace’s recovery and all the chaos of new parenthood. King told us about the moment Hartley was born—how Grace had been so strong, how he’d cried like a baby himself when he heard her first cry. Grace showed us the tiny outfits they’d brought for her, the stuffed animals already piling up in the corner.
It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once. A family welcoming a new life. A circle expanding to make room for one more.
When Hartley started to fuss, clearly ready to eat, we said our goodbyes. Stephen kissed Grace’s forehead again, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Hartley’s head. “Love you, sweetheart. Both of you.”
“Love you too, Dad,” Grace said, her voice thick.
I hugged her carefully, mindful of her soreness. “You did so well. She’s perfect.”
“Thank you,” Grace whispered. “For everything. For being here. For loving my dad. For being part of this.”
I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I just nodded and squeezed her hand.
King walked us to the door. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to Grace. To both of us.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Stephen said, shaking his hand.
We walked back down the hall in silence, Stephen’s arm around my shoulders. The elevator was empty when we stepped inside, and as soon as the doors closed, I let out a shaky breath.
“You okay?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “More than okay. That was... God, Stephen, she’s perfect.”
“She is.” He pulled me closer, kissing the top of my head. “And you were perfect with her.”
“I was terrified I’d drop her.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You weren’t going to drop her. You’re a natural.”
The elevator doors opened, and we walked through the lobby and out into the late afternoon sunshine. The parking lot was still crowded, families coming and going, life continuing in its messy, beautiful way.
Stephen led me toward my car, but instead of opening the door, he stopped and turned to face me, taking both my hands in his.
“Trudy.”
Something in his voice made my heart skip. “What?”
He looked at me for a long moment, his green eyes searching mine. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
My breath caught. “Stephen?—”
“You told me to ask you again in a month,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “when I was done grieving Christina. The truth is, I don’t think I will ever be done grieving her. But I don’t want to live in the past any longer. I want to live in the present, with you.”
