Page 110 of Heart of Gold

Since it’s our birthday tradition, Max insisted we go alone before Olive’s birthday party. I have my penny in my pocket, ready to make a wish for her. We try to still have mother-daughter moments, but having Max has been life-changing in the best possible way.

I have a partner, a lover, and the father to my child in my life. I fall more in love with him with each day that passes. Watching him with Olive makes me want another one. He joked last week that he wanted another baby as he peeled my clothes off of me, and I’m about to give in.

I made an appointment for next week to get my IUD removed.

Max lived in the tiny house for three months, but slowly, his stuff migrated to the main house. The first month he lived there, I would sneak over every night until one night Olive caught me coming back at eleven with her arms crossed.

“Mom, just let Dad sleep here,” she says, like it was easiest thing in the world.

We finally made Max’s fatherhood official, official two months ago. We went through the song and dance of getting the paternity test—no surprise, Max is Olive’s biological father— and then we officially updated Olive’s birth certificate.

Father: Maxwell Nicholas Sawyer.

We sent copies to his stepfather.

Max knew Olive was his. It’s hard to deny it when you look at her or see them shoulder to shoulder. However, we wanted to make absolutely sure that no one would question it ever again.

He slid into the dad role better than I could’ve imagined. This morning, he made Olive chocolate chip birthday pancakes, handing me a cup of coffee over her head with a kiss. At one point, he kissed Olive’s head and looked up at me, and I had to text him to meet me upstairs for a quickie because I was overcome with how horny it made me seeing him cook and do dishes.

Olive and I reach the wishing well in the meadow, as majestic as I left it on my birthday eight months prior. It floods me with calmness and nostalgia for all the birthdays we’ve done this as a mother and daughter.

“Mom, I know you usually make a wish on my birthday, but do you mind if I make my own wish this time? Since I’m ten?” Olive asks, tucking her hand into the pocket of her shorts.

“Can I still do it?” I pull out a penny. “For tradition?”

“Okay, but I want to go first.” Olive’s eyes widen, noticing her rude tone. “Please.”

“Okay, go for it,” I say. My daughter approaches, and I can see her profile, her eyelashes fluttering closed.

“I wish—”

“You don’t say it out loud, honey,” I remind her.

“I wish,” she says louder and then pauses. “I wish that my mom says yes.”

“What?”

Olive tosses the penny and turns around, her mouth stretched in a smile. I look behind me to see Max with one knee on the ground, holding up a ring between his fingers.

My soul leaves my body as I drop to the ground as well, twigs scratching my knees.

“Emily Jean Finch, I’m sorry I’m ten years late, but I’m here now. I love you so much. It’s time we make it official. Marry me.”

Tears leak from my eyes. “Of course.”

“Yes!” Max yells, holding his hand up so Olive can high-five him. Olive drapes herself over me, hugging my neck as Max slips a beautiful diamond ring on my hand.

“I helped, Mom,” Olive says, pointing at the cushion cut, surrounded by tiny diamonds on a thin yellow-gold band.

“It’s beautiful,” I say through tears, kissing Max, then kissing our daughter.

Olive pats me on the arm. “Also, Mom, Dad’s going to be a Finch.”

“No, we’ll be Sawyers,” I tell Olive.

“Actually…” Max kisses my face, and I notice tears in his eyes. “I was wondering if I could become a Finch once we’re married. Olive and I discussed it, and we both like the idea.”

“You…want to change your name?” I ask. I’ve never heard of a man taking his wife’s name. A sob leaves my throat.

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