Page 49 of Promise

Because we’re a couple, or at least, we’ll look like one. Two people living in a house together.

With a baby.

“I want to be here for you.” His voice grows in strength. “For anything you need. Roof repairs. Meals. And the baby’s room. It needs to be painted.”

His smile shifts from sober to soft, his eyes still on Mirabelle.

We had so many plans. Pink for a girl, or maybe yellow. Green for a boy. Maybe racecar décor when he was older.

“I haven’t had the time,” I admit about her bedroom. “Mirabelle was quite the surprise.”

“Yeah?” His brows lift. “Think you could tell me about it over breakfast?”

Breakfast. I’d completely forgotten about the bacon cooking earlier.

“Okay.” I nod toward the kitchen, and Dart waves out his arm, so I’ll lead the way. I feel him behind me, close but not as close as his hand on my thigh, or knee against mine, when we sat on the couch. I could question all that affection, but I understand now. Dart was reading the room, thinking he was helping. Showing off for the case worker.

Disappointment pinches at my chest, but I quickly ignore it. Instead, I set Mirabelle in the bouncy seat on the island counter, and Dart returns to the bacon, turning the pan back on and pulling eggs from a carton on the counter.

While he works, I explain how I found Mirabelle on the back step.

Dart whisks eggs for scrambling so hard that some splashes out of the bowl onto his shirt. He ignores the mess, staring at me, wide-eyed with surprise.

“She was just left out there?” He glances toward the back door, incredulous at the possibility.

“Yes.” But I smile. “It was purposeful. And now, she belongs to me.” I reach for her little covered toes and jiggle her leg, causing the seat to bounce and Mirabelle’s eyes to widen.

I’m still in awe of the adoption. And maybe a little afraid. Her biological mother could change her mind, want her sweet baby back. But in my heart, Mirabelle is mine, like I just said. And I am afraid of that feeling too. The ferocity of that love, and that it could be taken from me.

I glance at Dart quickly, then back at Mirabelle. She’s been staring at the overhead lights like they are the most fascinating thing in the world. Her sense of color is still developing. For now, she might only see in black and white, maybe shades of gray.

I gaze back at Dart, realizing nothing is black and white between us.

We are shades of gray.

“She’s lucky you were here.” Dart glances at Mirabelle, then back to the stove. The pan sizzles when he pours the eggs into it, sweeping a spatula back and forth with more force than necessary once again.

Even through his t-shirt, I can sense the tightness in his shoulders. The stiffness in his back.

He hates how Mirabelle came to me. Abandonment.

And yet, I can’t look at it like that.

She was a gift. A blessing. Given to me because the universe knew I’d take care of her.

When the eggs are done, Dart plates them with the bacon and sets the dish in front of me on the slim island. He stands on the opposite side, a plate of his own in front of him.

He pokes at the eggs. “So, when you said you didn’t know who the father was, you meant you really didn’t know.” He slowly lifts his head, both fear and hope in his eyes. “You hadn’t slept with someone else.”

What he’s really confirming is that I hadn’t gotten pregnant by someone else.

“I haven’t slept with someone else,” I state, holding my head high, clarifying the truth.

The admission feels like a confession. One he doesn’t deserve, but he still should know, as he now knows how Mirabelle came to me, and I’m going to adopt her.

Bodily fluids with another human being have not been exchanged.

If ever I wondered what relief looked like on a human being, I witness it on Dart. His shoulders fall. His chest rises. And his eyes are the brightest I’ve ever seen.