When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(82)

“I have.”

“Can you tell her I love her, too?”

“If that’s what you want.” His bright smile makes my heart soar. “I better go find her.”

Ben slinks down onto his pillow, barely able to keep his eyes open. When they finally shut, I creep the rest of the way out of the room. Kennedy sits, her head between her knees.

“You okay?” I crouch down in front of her, resting my hands on her knees.

She looks up at me, excitement flooding her eyes. “We’re really doing this? The marriage and trying to adopt him?” She tilts her head toward Ben’s door.

“I love you, Kennedy, and tomorrow, even if Betty tells us we’re misplaced in the idea of adopting Ben, I will still want to make you my wife and have hundreds of children and the white picket fence.”

She wraps her arms around my neck. “Okay, then, we’re doing this.”





Two Years Later





My eyes scan the vibrant grass of the stadium. The loud thunder of the crowd causes my stomach to somersault, and I swallow the lump in my throat. My eyes close, and I’m releasing a long breath when there’s a soft tug on my sleeve. I glance down at a mop of curly, brown hair.

“Did Nana Conrad get you something good?” I raise an eyebrow in warning at my mother. I know her. She doesn’t know how to say no to him.

“She did.” She hands me a cup, which is hopefully laced with something to calm my nerves. I take a gulp, but find it’s only Coca-Cola. At my audible groan, Will reaches from behind me with a flask in his hand, and gives me a questioning glance. I laugh, but brush him off.

“You’re an idiot,” Amanda scolds him. I don’t even understand why they’re sitting next to each other. At the wedding, they nearly ripped each other’s throats out. Their bickering behind me is evidence enough to why they never worked out.

“She got me candy. A lot of candy,” Ben explains, showing off his loot of candy bars and suckers. His bright smile is hard to resist, and I let the abundance of candy slide.

“You won’t have any teeth if you eat all those candy bars.” I give him one of those stares I remember receiving from my mother when I was his age.

“Dad says that’s a lie.” Ben grins.

I can only laugh. It’s typical of Graham, giving into anything Ben wants. Ever since we started the process of fostering to adopt, Graham’s been incapable of telling Ben no. Not in a disciplinary way, no, Graham’s mastered the art of being stern but fair when it comes to Ben. It’s more in the sense of never denying him the pleasure of candy once in a while, or the joy of opening a new toy. This alone explains the overflowing toy room in the house.

The last two years have been a whirlwind of an experience. During Graham’s junior year, he was drafted into the Yankees farm team. Coach Boone played a big part in Graham’s success, always pushing and enforcing extra practice. He gave Graham a level of confidence on the mound I never knew he could reach. Betty was the one who gave him the confidence off the field, though. After the fire, she had no choice but to endorse Graham as a future match for Ben. No one will ever possibly love the boy, besides me, quite like my husband.

“I’ll never get used to that on your finger,” my dad whispers from beside me. I hold my left hand up and twist the band until the two align. “All those years ago, who knew the boy sneaking in your bedroom window would be capable of making all your dreams come true.”

The all too-familiar ache forms in my chest. “Dad.” All the anxiety of the day lives within the tears falling down my cheeks.

He wraps me in his arms. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. You two have had a busy few years. Speaking of busy.” He reaches around me and sweeps Ben up in his arms. He’s getting too big to hold like that, so I understand my dad’s need to soak him up.

“This is it. All of it,” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through Ben’s hair.

“Mom, there’s Dad,” Ben shouts, pointing out onto the field. Not a day will go by where I don’t understand the importance of being called Mom by him.

The title holds a great weight, a weight I don’t feel worthy of some days. After Graham and I flirted with the idea of adoption, I had to dig deep and truly understand what it would mean. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my own hang ups, but when I look over at Ben as he laughs at my dad making silly faces, all of that melts away.

My husband takes his rightful spot behind the mound. A small patch of dirt in the middle of a pristinely cut lawn means everything to the man I love. As if he senses my eyes on him, he turns from the outfield and scans the packed crowd. When he finally finds us, he winks, telling me he’s feeling the same things I am.

We made it. We survived.

The National Anthem is belted out, and the buzz of the crowd amplifies to torturous levels. The players fidget on the field in a single line, eager to start the game. Graham’s glove is tucked under his arm, and his right hand is securely over his heart, gripping his hat. As the emotion-packed song fades, he pops his hat on and steps on the mound with his head held high.

“Why’d you bring your camera?” Ben asks.

I smile at his always curious nature. Graham stands on the mound, circling the ball in his grasp, aligning the thread with his fingers.