Page 132 of Until I Find You

“Oh mygod.”

“You don’t have to. I can tell her she needs to leave. But she came up here from New Mexico and–”

“You already talked to her?”

Jack folds his hands in a prayer position. “I had to, to find out if she was actually who she says she is. I wasn’t trying to do anything malicious, I promise, Camilla.”

I go to the table in the middle of the room, the one that used to be unfinished and gave me a splinter. I press my palms on it and try to catch my breath. “I…don’t know what to do.”

Jack comes up behind me and strokes his fingers up and down my spine. It steadies me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”

“I know you can, baby girl, I know you can.” He takes my hand in his and guides it to my stomach. “Remember it’s not just you. It’s us. I stand by you one hundred percent.”

It’s not just me anymore. It’s me and my baby. The baby that I have pictured my future around. The one I share with the man I love.

The one I can’t imagine not knowing me.

I have to do this.

For us.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her.”

Jack steadies me on his arm and walks me over to the door to the manager’s office at back of the room. “You want me to go in with you or–”

“I’ll do it,” I say without a second thought.

Jack seems to hesitate, but ultimately nods. “I’ll be out here. If you need anything, okay?”

I don’t say anything, so focused on the moment I’m in. I place my hand on the doorknob. Twist it. Push it. I step into the room. Close the door behind me. Turn around.

And…there she is.

My birth mother.

Jack was right. It’s like looking in a mirror. Even the way she smiles, which right now is subtle and nervous as she gazes up at me from her chair by the window. The only difference of course is that she’s older than me, though her skin is smooth and there’s no gray in her hair.

She’s beautiful. And that’s not to say I’m beautiful. I just never knew what it would be like to look at a version of me. A piece of me. Though my heart is broken over her, her beauty is staggering.

I don’t know what to say, and she doesn’t know either. I’m not sure how long the silence lasts. A while. More than is comfortable. With tentativeness, I go over to the chair across from hers, my sandals echoing on the hardwood.

I avert my eyes as I sit down. We’ve tried to make the manager’s office as stylish and thoughtfully decorated as the rest of the coffee shop. High ceilings, hardwood floors, fresh fixtures. I couldn’t care less what the room looks like in this moment. It doesn’t alleviate my stress because it’s esthetically pleasing. We may as well be in a room with black walls, ceilings, and floors.

“Congratulations.”

The fact she’s spoken takes a moment to register.

“Your husband told me you were expecting,” she says, widening her smile.

I fold my hands under my belly, toying with the fabric of my dress. “He’s not my husband.”

Her smile drops as she lifts her chin, then nods with vehemence. “I see. I assumed. I’m sorry.”

There is a clear Spanish lilt in her words, but it’s subtler than I expected.

“I don’t know what to say.” I have reverted back to a thirteen-year-old, shy and unsure of herself.

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