Zoe broke down. The tears came hard. The sobs shook her shoulders. She seemed to bury the pain into her mother’s embrace. Remi held her like she was five and scared of a thunderstorm.
“I’m so sorry you went through this alone,” Remi murmured. “So sorry I didn’t see it.”
Zoe shook her head. “You couldn’t have known. I didn’t let anyone in.”
“But I’m in now. You hear me?” Remi pulled back just enough to see her face. “Whatever this next chapter looks like—for both of us, we’ll do it together.”
Zoe nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks.
Remi kissed her forehead, then stood up, wiping her own eyes.
They stayed like that for a while, both trying to catch their breath from the heaviness of what had been shared. Remi held her baby just a little longer. “I have something I need to tell you, sweetheart.”
Zoe wiped her tears, her eyes widening. She looked up at her mother, searching her face. “What is it, Mom?”
“I can completely relate to what you’re feeling,” Remi said softly, “because I’ve been there, where you are now. When your dad and I were in college, I got pregnant. It was before you. Before we were married.”
Zoe blinked. “What?” she whispered.
Remi’s voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “It was a boy. We were going to name him Gerard, a junior. Gerard 2.0 was the silly nickname we’d come up with.” She chuckled, tried to catch her breath. “But—” her voice broke.
Zoe reached out, gently placing her hand on her mother’s cheek.
“He didn’t make it,” Remi whispered, closing her eyes like it might soften the memory. It didn’t. “He was gone before we ever got to meet him.”
“Oh, Mom …” Zoe breathed.
“It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure,” Remi said, her voice thick. “Aside from losing your dad.”
“What did you do?” Zoe asked. “Did you tell anyone?”
“I told Grandma Lorraine. She helped me through it. She let me talk about it as much as I needed to, until I was better. The pain never completely went away, though; it just got better over time.”
Zoe nodded slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It hurts so bad sometimes,” she admitted. “Some days, I can’t even breathe.”
“You can talk to me about it as much as you want. I’m here.” Remi cupped her daughter’s face gently. “Therapy is an option, too, baby. Would you be open to that?”
“Maybe,” Zoe said in a small voice. “I never really thought about it.”
“Okay. We can talk more about it,” Remi said. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
Zoe gave a faint nod. “Okay.”
Remi gave her a soft smile, brushing a tear from Zoe’s cheek with her thumb. Then she rose to her feet, taking a deep breath. Her heart felt better, having gotten things off her chest. “All right. Enough heaviness for tonight. Let’s play some music—something upbeat.”
Zoe let out a weak laugh. “Mom, you know our taste in music is way different.”
“Well, you play something.”
Zoe reached for her phone, connected it to the Bluetooth and to the speaker. A beat dropped—Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us” filled the room with energy. Remi pulled Zoe up from the sofa, and they danced in the middle of the living room, clumsy and carefree.
“Oh wait, nobody told me there was a party going on.” Bianca stepped into the room, a brightly colored casual romper hugging her curves. They hadn’t even heard her coming.
She joined them on the floor, hips swaying effortlessly to the rhythm. Soon, Mila wandered in and, without a word, slipped into their circle. The four of them danced like it was the only thing holding them together. It was pure joy and beautiful energy until the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Bianca called, slipping from the rhythm and heading toward the door.
The others kept dancing andsinging, the music pulsing through the room as Bianca opened the door and exchanged a few quiet words. She signed for the package, a box tucked in her arms.