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“I love you now and forever,” I say back silently.
Earlier this summer, I was sitting on my couch holding a screaming baby, wondering how everything had fallen apart. Tonight, I'm sitting at a table surrounded by people who keep showing up for me and Tilly. I wonder if there was an invisible blueprint for all of this long before any of us could see it. Like every wrong turn, every messy choice and every painful year led us here to this table.
For the first time in a long time, I'm not wondering what comes next or waiting for everything to fall apart. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, with my family by my side.
EPILOGUE
OLLIE
Ten years later
Father’s Day
Waking up, the first thing I notice is whispering and giggling coming from the hallway past the closed bedroom door. Then our youngest daughter’s loud voice asking where her presents are. The others shush at her, and I smile. There’s never a boring day in our household of six people, three cats, two guinea pigs, and one rescue cockatiel.
A moment later, the door opens and four sets of little feet make their way to the bed. I lay still, my eyes shut tight, acting like I’m asleep. Once I do the most obvious fake snoring sound under the covers, our six-year-old son Morgan giggles.
“Daddy, you’re not sleeping!” he exclaims, tickling my feet.
I lift my hands up in the air. “I surrender, Tickle Monster!”
All four children laugh at my antics, their laughter filling the air. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world. I want to bottle it up for the bad days and the moments when I realize my babies are growing up too fast.
I take in the four people who call me Dad—the best title I have ever had, just above husband and brother. My dream of having my own family became a reality, even though our journey here was anything but traditional.
“Dad, move over so we can all fit into the bed with you,” Tilly tells me before dropping my wrapped present on the nightstand. I make space for the children, and one by one, they climb in.
Tilly, our oldest, is ten going on thirty. With her long blonde hair and blue eyes, she’s like a mini version of me, but her interests are all Peyton. She loves painting and helps her mom in the garden whenever she can. Just last week, we bought her a large terrarium starter kit so that she can start her own.
Shortly after her second birthday, I received a call from a prison in upstate New York. My sister had been there for the past five months, and she gave birth while incarcerated. She had been involved in a drug ring that sold pills to college kids. Two of them ended up dead and Livia’s boyfriend at the time put all the blame on her. She won’t be getting out anytime soon.
That baby is our second daughter Harriet, Harri for short. Sitting next to Tilly, she’s the opposite of her sister with her dark curly hair and brown eyes. But you can easily tell they’re related when they smile with their matching dimples.
We haven’t heard from Livia after the adoption of Harri, but I have learned to let go of people in my life who don’t reciprocate what I give them. It has taken years but I’ve learned I don’t have to be the one to save my sister when she doesn’t want to be rescued.
“Can I open your gift, Daddy?” Morgan asks and reaches for the package. I already know it’s a few books like every Father’s Day, but I still act surprised when we open the present together.
After Harri joined our family, we discussed our options and decided not to try IVF. It was a hard decision, but Peyton wasn't mentally ready for the process. Luckily, there are other ways to grow a family.
A month after, a kid she worked with in her job at a local community center needed an emergency placement one Friday afternoon. We fostered him for around a year and ultimately adopted him. Morgan, our only boy, is the smartest kid I have ever met. I can’t wait to see what he does in the future.
Then there’s Moriah, the baby of our family. Our little sunshine. The child who has challenged us the most with her stubborn nature since day one. Still, we call her the last puzzle piece because she made our family complete. She’s Morgan’s biological half-sister, sharing the same mother. After we got a call about her from the social worker who helped us adopt Morgan, we knew she was ours. Something just clicked into place. Twelve days later, we were holding our fourth and final kid in our arms.
The tradition of book buying started when we were celebrating Father's Day the year after Tilly was born. Peyton wanted to give me something useful and memorable, so I told her to buy me the books I had in my online shopping cart for weeks. Since then, around a month before every Father’s Day, Peyton tells me to open my favorite indie bookseller’s website and share my shopping cart.
“I love them. Thank you, kiddos,” I tell them, kissing each on their foreheads before asking, “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s right here,” I hear from the doorway.
Turning around, I see the woman who has been through it all with me—the woman whom I love calling my sweetheart, my partner, my better half—making my life worth living and better by simply existing.
“Good morning, Miss California.”
“Morning, handsome. It seems that little ones have taken over our bed,” Peyton leans against the doorframe, hair messy, tea cup in hand.
“That they have.”
“Okay, it’s time for a banana pancake breakfast,” Peyton announces. “Who wants the first one?”
