Dear Life(112)

“Hey, June. It’s good to see you as well. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Hope has been sleeping better at night. It’s been very nice for the bags under our eyes,” she jokes.

“I bet.” Looking at Alex, I reach for her and she quickly gives me a hug, not as affectionate as June, but loving nonetheless. “Alex, you’re looking good as well.”

“Thank you.” Eyeing my uniform, she asks, “Ready for the game? That batting average needs a little lift.” She winks at me, and I soak in her playful charm.

“Yeah, got some good hits in already this morning. I’m ready.” Eyeing the stroller, I ask, “How’s she doing?”

“Great. Would you like to hold her?”

This is why they’re here, so I can better adapt to this empty hole in my soul, so I can face the decision I made and accept it.

Swallowing hard, I nod, wiping my hands on my pants one more time.

Rounding the stroller, June starts unbuckling her and then reaches down. When she lifts up, a tiny little girl comes with her, wearing a bright red bow in her hair and . . .

Fuck, my heart stops beating. A tingling wave of numbness rides up my legs, and the tears I was holding back instantly fall.

In June’s arms is Hope, perfectly little, wearing a Jace Barnes T-shirt jersey.

“Christ,” I mutter, stepping forward, a wobble in my legs. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Here.” June hands her over, carefully placing her head in the crook of my arm, my unsteady hands framing her little body.

Moving to one of the couches in the clubhouse, I sit down, my eyes fixed on Hope, her eyes trained on mine, tears of mine falling on her shirt.

“Hi, pretty lady.” She smiles up at me and coos the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “You got some amazing moms, you know that?” I glance up at June and Alex who are both crying, while June takes pictures on her phone. I move my finger into her tiny hand and she grips it tightly, the squeeze like a bolt of lightning straight to my heart. “You got quite the grip there, sweet pea.”

“Maybe she’ll be a ballplayer, too,” Alex suggests. “She has the genes.”

“Maybe.” I smile. “She’s so full of life, so happy.” Hope smiles some more, her eyes focusing on my hat. “You want to wear my hat?” I take it off and place it gently over her head and the bow. It’s entirely too big on her but she still looks like the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.

“This is such a special moment to us,” June says between wiping happy tears off her cheeks. “We want you to have a relationship with her Jace, Rebecca too. We’re a family.”

A family.

My chest tightens from the thought of being included in this beautiful little trio. A family—what I craved most growing up. Sleeping in my cold bed, wondering if the next day would be the day someone would come and adopt me, hoping and praying that one day, I would have a set of parents who loved me. I’ve craved this, and they’re handing it to me on a silver platter.

“You really want me to be a part of your life? Isn’t that going to be confusing for Hope?”

“Not unless we make it confusing.” Alex steps in and squats down to my level. “Jace, you’re her birth father, if you want to have a relationship with Hope, then we want you to have one as well. Same with Rebecca. You both did the most selfless thing possible, you brought joy to our lives, you gave us Hope.”

I can’t help but see the double meaning in that sentence. You gave us Hope.

Little do they know, they’re the ones who actually gave me hope.

DAISY

“Done!” I raise my hands in the air and bounce on my toes, eyeing my creation.

Nailed it. I so nailed it.

“This wasn’t timed,” Mary Fran says as she leans over the counter to check out my Banana Split Bundt Cake.

The last few days have been spent in my very own—rented—kitchen, working on the perfect recipe to showcase at my interview with local baker, Mary Fran, the goddess who owns Squeeze Bundt, which is next to the Colorado Miners stadium. Matt was telling me the team is always ordering from Mary Fran, and they’re actually thinking about putting a mini kiosk of Squeeze Bundt in the stadium during games.

When I talked to Mary Fran, who said she was looking for help, I had no problem dropping Matt’s name. I wanted to do this on my own, but I’m not so prideful that I wouldn’t give myself an edge. My dad’s money is only going to last for so long and getting a job is the final step of becoming that confident, self-sufficient woman in the mirror.

“Tell me what you made me.”

Gladly.

Moving the plate closer to her, I spin it around so she can see all sides and tell her exactly what’s inside. “This is my Banana Split Bundt Cake. It has a banana cake base, chocolate chips and strawberries inside, with a vanilla and chocolate fudge icing, topped with chopped nuts, rosettes of whip cream, and cherries.” I hand her a fork. “Enjoy.”

“I’m impressed, Daisy. Did you come up with this recipe on your own?”

“My grams and I loved making Bundt cakes. We tried every recipe we came across and then started coming up with our own. This was one of my favorites.”

She nods and dips her fork into the moist—yes, I said moist—cake. I wait on bated breath for her reaction, an adrenaline rush pumping through my veins. She has to like it; there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll like it. The question is, will she like it enough to hire me?