.
That was when I finally understood.
Whatever he was about to ask wasn’t about Anna wanting him back.
Anna was gone.
This was about the baby.
James took a breath.
“She has no one.”
I didn’t move.
“Her father’s not coming. Social services reached him. He signed something saying he isn’t seeking custody.”
My mouth went dry.
“Already?”
“He left months ago. Apparently he doesn’t want involvement.”
Anger flashed through me.
James continued.
“The hospital social worker explained what happens next.”
“What happens?”
“Temporary placement while they search for relatives and determine guardianship.”
He looked through the glass.
“They don’t think there are any relatives.”
I already knew what was coming.
Still, hearing it felt enormous.
“I want us to ask to be considered.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
He looked directly at me.
“For her.”
My eyes filled.
“James.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I know how this sounds.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I probably do.”
He reached toward me, then stopped.
“I already told the social worker I’m married. That I would never make any decision without you. That this isn’t something I get to promise on my own.”
I looked through the glass again.
The bassinet had been moved closer.
Tiny face.
Dark hair.
Closed eyes.
“I want to apply for her,” James said. “Whatever that process means. Foster placement, guardianship, adoption later if that’s possible. I want to bring her home.”
He swallowed.
“If this is too much, tell me, and I’ll never mention it again.”
I laughed through my tears.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I finally understood what he had been expecting.
“You think I’m jealous?”
He said nothing.
“You thought I’d hear Anna’s name and think this was about her?”
“I didn’t know what you’d think.”
I wiped my face.
“I thought she might be your baby.”
His eyes widened.
“Okay. That’s worse.”
Despite everything, I laughed again.
Then I cried harder.
James reached for me.
This time, I let him.
I kept thinking about Anna.
Not James’s old girlfriend.
Not the woman he once imagined marrying.
A woman alone in a hospital bed.
Using the last clear thought she had to make sure her daughter didn’t disappear into the world unnoticed.
She had one name left.
She used it for her child.
“Can I hold her?” I asked.
James looked stunned.
The nurse smiled.
“I’ll ask.”
Ten minutes later, I sat in a chair with a newborn girl against my chest.
Six pounds and something.
Twelve hours old.
Tiny hands.
Her fingers opened once against my shirt.
I stopped breathing.
James knelt beside me.
“Are you sure?”
I looked at him.
“Because if you’re not—”
“We spent years wishing our boys could have a little sister.”
He went still.
I looked down at the baby.
“Maybe we were just waiting for the wrong miracle.”
James covered his face.
That was the second time I ever saw him cry.
—
Nothing became easy after that.
The legal process lasted nine months.
Nine long months.
Home studies.
Background checks.
Interviews.
Court hearings.
