Page 87 of Something Like Shelter

Willa - 3 years

“I saw that,” I said as Adelaide slipped a piece of carrot to Tuna, who was smart enough to always sit at her feet, a habit he’d picked up when she’d still been in a highchair and hadn’t gotten a hang of how her hands worked yet, so she sent more food flying than she shoved into her mouth.

“He’s hungry,” Adelaide insisted.

“And you don’t love carrots,” I shot back.

Adelaide was too smart to give her an inch, she would always take a mile.

“Ranch?” I asked.

She agreed, then spent the next five minutes driving her carrot sticks through the white dressing, getting more on her face and fingers than she got in her mouth, I swear.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked, making my heart clutch each time it did when she called him that.

Because he was.

Her father.

In every single metric that counted.

As for Chase, the last I heard, he and his wife were adopting a baby.

Did some part of me ache for Adelaide, that she had a biological father who couldn’t be bothered to help raise her, but was on board with doing so for another baby? Of course. But Owen went out of his way to make sure that Adelaide never felt unloved or unwanted for a single second.

As guided by a therapist, we’d introduced age-appropriate concepts about birth parents and the parents that raise children, about how sometimes birth parents aren’t in a kid’s life, and that was okay because they were loved by the parents that were in their lives.

Adelaide just kind of shrugged it off and moved on.

All that mattered was that she did have a father in her life. And he loved her just as much as I did.

Just as much as he was going to love the baby I just learned was growing in my belly.

I hadn’t planned on having a kid again so quickly. When we talked about more children, we did so in an abstract, “someday” way. But fate had its own timing, I guess.

And if there was ever a couple that was prepared for a baby, it was us. We had an amazing home. We had experience. Owen had a thriving business. I had a small consulting business with the clients that came with me after I was fired just a few months after I returned from maternity leave. The irony was, even with only a handful of clients, I was making more than I ever did before.

Private schools, first cars, college tuition—that would all be covered. But I was working half as many hours. I no longer had to tolerate the rampant sexism or competitiveness at my old company.

Everything was perfect.

It was the right time for a baby.

Which was good, because one was on its way.

“He said he’s on his way home. He can’t wait to watch you at karate. So bring your plate over so I can put your gi on.”

I was just finishing pulling her hair into a braid when Owen came into the house, pausing to pet Tuna before making a beeline for us.

“Daddy!”

Adelaide launched herself at him, and he snatched her up for a big hug, then set her back down because she said she had to go bring her baby doll to karate too.

“Owen,” I said.

“Yeah?” he asked, coming up to press a quick kiss to my forehead.

“I need to tell you something.”