Page 116 of No Greater Love
"That's fair," Paige conceded. "I'd probably complain too."
That first week was everything people warned you about and somehow still a complete surprise. The sleep deprivation, the constant laundry, the way Oliver could go from peacefully sleeping to screaming like his world was ending in approximately 0.3 seconds.
But it was also magic in ways I hadn't expected. The way Paige appointed herself Oliver's official translator, providing running commentary on what she thought he was trying to communicate. The sight of Tasha, sleep-deprived and wearing one of my old college t-shirts, singing lullabies at 4 AM like she'd been doing it her whole life. The moment Oliver first smiled—probably gas, but we all chose to believe it was genuine—and Paige nearly cried with excitement.
"He smiled at me!" she announced to everyone who would listen. "I made him smile! I'm officially the best big sister ever!"
"You definitely are," I agreed, watching her show Oliver a book about the solar system, complete with sound effects for each planet.
Two weeks in, as I sat in the nursery during a late-night feeding, Oliver in my arms and the house finally quiet, I thought about how much had changed since that first day Tasha had walked into the ER.
I'd been so afraid then. Afraid of letting anyone in, afraid of disrupting the careful balance I'd built with Paige, afraid that opening my heart would just lead to more loss.
Now, listening to my son's soft breathing and knowing my daughter was safely asleep down the hall and my wife—wife, we'd have to do something about that soon—was finally getting some rest, I realized that fear had been the biggest enemy all along.
Not Sarah's lawyers or custody battles or the thousand daily challenges of raising children. Just fear. Fear of believing I deserved this kind of happiness, this kind of love, this kind of family.
Oliver stirred in my arms, making the soft snuffling sounds that Paige insisted meant he was dreaming about rockets. His eyes opened briefly, unfocused but somehow seeming to see me anyway.
"Hey there, buddy," I whispered. "Welcome to the family. We're all a little crazy, but we love real big and we don't give up on each other. I think you're going to like it here."
His tiny hand curled around my finger again, and I felt that same overwhelming surge of protectiveness I'd felt the first time I'd held Paige. The bone-deep certainty that I would do anything, sacrifice anything, fight anyone to keep this small person safe.
But this time, I wasn't facing it alone. This time, I had partners in the fight. This time, I had a family that chose each other every single day, through sleepless nights and scary mornings and all the beautiful, chaotic, perfectly imperfect moments in between.
"Three Little Birds" came drifting softly from down the hall—Tasha's voice, singing the lullaby she'd heard me sing to Paige that first night she'd stayed over. The night that had changed everything.
I smiled, holding my son a little closer, and realized Bob Marley had been right all along.
Everything was going to be alright.
Everything already was.
THE END
epilogue: tasha
The night before court
The thought hitme like a physical blow, and I found myself gripping the kitchen counter to stay upright. We were going to lose. Nate was walking into that courtroom with nothing but his love for Paige and some hastily researched legal precedents. Sarah had money, lawyers, a plan that had been months in the making.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And it was going to happen anyway.
I needed air. Needed space to fall apart where Nate couldn't see me doing it. He was barely holding himself together as it was.
The back deck was cool and quiet, the summer night air carrying the scent of Mrs. Swanson's roses from next door. Normal suburban life, continuing as if our world wasn't about to implode.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling to Sophia's contact. It was late… too late to be calling anyone.
But I couldn't just sit here and do nothing while everything we'd built crumbled around us.
She answered on the fourth ring, her voice alert despite the hour.
"Tasha? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry for calling so late," I said, my voice already shaking. "I know it's?—"
"Don't apologize. What's happening?"
