Page 191 of Slapshot Baby

"You break Ava’s heart and you’ll have me to deal with. If you so much as hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret ever knowing me.”

"Understood."

She holds my gaze for two more seconds. Then she uncrosses her arms.

"Welcome to the family, Kai Donovan. I’ve only accepted you because of Ava. Don't make me regret it."

She walks past me toward the kitchen and asks Joan what's for dessert. I go to the back porch.

Ava is in the rocking chair, feet tucked underneath her, her face tipped toward the late-afternoon light. She looks up when the screen door opens and smiles.

"What did you do?" she asks.

"Nothing."

"Liar. You've got a look."

I wink. "Then it’s a surprise look."

I sit down on the porch step at her feet and lean my head back against her knee. Her fingers slide into my hair, scratching gently along my scalp.

I close my eyes in bliss.

This morning I took back my captaincy because I stopped asking for what was already mine. Tonight I'm sitting on Ava’s family home porch with a blessing from both her parents.

Finally, I have all that’s mine.

And this family, the one forming around a baby who kicks when I put my hand on her mother's belly, this family is mine. Not because anyone granted it.

Because I chose it, and I keep choosing it, and I will keep choosing it every single morning.

Epilogue - AVA

Signed for Life

My daughter, Elise, is trying to eat my earring.

She's got her fist wrapped around the gold hoop and her mouth wide open, drool already connecting her chin to my collarbone in a glistening thread that I'm going to pretend isn't currently soaking into the neckline of my dress.

"No ma'am." I unhook her fingers gently. "Those are not food."

She looks at me with Kai's brown eyes, huge and serious. Her lower lip pushes out in a pout that is so deeply her father's expression it makes my chest squeeze every single time.

"Don't give me that face. You just ate, so you’re not starving."

She blows a spit bubble.

"Great. Very elegant."

I wipe her chin with the burp cloth draped over my shoulder and hoist her higher on my hip.

She's wearing the sage-green onesie Lucy knitted, the one that took my sister a month, many instructional videos, and one extremely aggressive phone call to a yarn shop in Portland.

The stitching is slightly uneven along the left shoulder. I will never tell Lucy that.

Kai walks into the bedroom doorway with his dark suit, white shirt open at the collar, his hair pushed back but already losing the battle against its natural direction. His eyes find us and there’s a slight softening around his mouth.

"Mira's downstairs," he says.