“Also possible.”
“Like his father.”
He smiles again, then presses a kiss to my temple.
We stand there for a moment longer, watching them sleep as we listen to the evening rain patter against the windows. Two little lives, safe in a room of soft light, knowing nothing about what it took to bring them both into this world. They know nothingabout auctions or nightclubs or evil men with guns, nor will they ever.
That’s the point. The whole point.
My phone buzzes against the nightstand just as we’re getting back into bed. I smile as I lean over to read the text, knowing who it is.
Sylvie.
Lunch tomorrow? I’m thinking that new Thai place on Amsterdam. I havebignews and need Pad See Ew to deliver it properly.
I respond with a heart emoji.
For sure. Noon?
A thumbs up.
Sylvie moved out about eight months ago to a one-bedroom in Morningside Heights. Close enough to visit, but far enough away that she’s on her own. She’s enrolled at Columbia and starts in January. She’s going to study psychology with a focus on trauma recovery. When she told me she’d gotten in, I’d cried so hard, she threatened to make me her first patient. We both laughed.
She’s not the same Sylvie she was before the auction. She never will be. But she’s also not the same Sylvie from when I found her, when Gabriel and I brought her here to live, to recover. I am not the same either. We’re both messier, scarred but rebuilt.
And we’re still standing.
We get lunch every Thursday. She’s the godmother to our kids. And she’s always down for babysitting when Gabriel and I need a date night.
I can’t wait.What’s the news?
Nope. Tomorrow. I want to see your face when I tell you.
You’re killing me.
You’ll survive.
Can’t wait.
I set my phone down, smiling.
Gabriel emerges from the bathroom, studying me.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re smiling.”
“People smile, babe. It’s kind of a normal human function.”
“You’re smiling in a very specific way,” he says, crossing over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “The way you smile when you’re talking to Sylvie.”
“We’re getting lunch tomorrow. She has news.”
“News?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did she tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Nothing.” He says the word too quickly. “Good. Have fun.”