Page 27 of Worship Him

I pick her up from her crib, cradling her against my chest. Her tiny fingers grasp at my shirt, and I feel an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness.

I carry her over to the rocking chair again and sit down, rocking us both gently back and forth. The motion soothes my racing thoughts, if only for a moment.

As much as I dread it, Barrett’s right—I need to tell Adam that this beautiful baby isn’t another man’s. He deserves to know his daughter exists. But how do I face him after everything that’s happened? How do I look into those piercing blue eyes and admit that I’ve kept something so monumental from him?

I press a kiss to Avery’s forehead and let out a long breath. “We’ll figure it out together, baby girl,” I promise softly.

Avery stirs again and opens her eyes, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that are so much like mine.

“We’ll figure it out,” I repeat more firmly this time, feeling a spark of determination ignite within me as I watch her fall asleep again.

With Avery finally asleep, I tiptoe out of her room and head to my laptop. It sits on the kitchen table, surrounded by sketches and fabric swatches—a reflection of my attempt at juggling motherhood and running a business.

I open the laptop and navigate to the folder labeled “Avery.” Hundreds of photos fill the screen, each one capturing a moment of her short yet significant life.

There she is in her dinosaur onesie, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity. Another shows her first smile, toothless and pure. I click through them, my heart swelling with every memory.

“Let’s do this,” I whisper to myself.

I start arranging the photos into a slideshow. Avery’s first bath, her tiny hand gripping my finger, her first steps—every image tells a story. I add a soft instrumental track in the background, something gentle that won’t distract from the visuals.

A photo of Avery sleeping in her crib pops up. Her little face is peaceful, framed by a halo of dark brown curls. I linger on it for a moment, imagining how Adam might react when he sees it.

“This won’t make up for lost time,” I murmur, “but it’s something.”

The next image is from last week: Avery sitting in her high chair, covered in mashed carrots. She’s grinning ear to ear, and I can almost hear her giggles. The memory brings a smile to my face despite everything.

The house is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak from the wooden floors. It feels like these moments are stolen from reality, existing in a bubble where only Avery and I reside.

My fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, adjusting transitions and timing. The slideshow starts to take shape, a digital scrapbook of her life over the past year.

As I work, emotions swirl inside me—regret for not telling Adam sooner, fear of his reaction, but also hope that this gesture might bridge some of the distance between us.

I pause, fingers trembling over the keys. What will he think when he sees this? Will he be angry? Hurt? Is there a way he might understand why I kept this secret for so long?

I push those thoughts aside and focus on finishing the slideshow. The final image is of Avery in her Halloween costume—a tiny pumpkin suit that she absolutely hated but looked adorable in nonetheless.

After about an hour, the slideshow is complete, but the knot in my stomach remains. This isn’t just a collection of photos; it’s an olive branch, a way to bridge the chasm between us.

I save the file and lean back in my chair, mental exhaustion washing over me. The weight of everything presses down hard—our past love, our current estrangement, and the future that remains uncertain.

But for now, I’ve done something tangible. A small step toward reconciling two worlds that seem so far apart. Maybe it’s not enough, but it’s a start.

And sometimes, that’s all you need.

11

DESTINY

Iarrive at Barrett and Jackie’s house with Avery in my arms. The scent of home-cooked food wafts through the air, mingling with the warm, welcoming atmosphere. The door swings open, and Jackie greets me with a wide smile.

“Destiny! It’s so good to see you,” she says, pulling me into a gentle hug. “And look at this little angel.”

Marionette rushes over, her excitement palpable. “Can I hold her, Aunt Destiny? Please?”

I chuckle, adjusting Avery in my arms. “Let’s wait until we’re inside, okay? Don’t want her catching a chill.”

We step into the cozy living room, where Mimi is toddling around with a toy in her hand. She glances up at Avery but quickly loses interest and returns to her play.

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