Chapter 23 023
RYAN
The moment I got to Emily’s place later that evening, she did not bother with a greeting.
No hello. No questions. No pause at all.
She opened the door with Zara already in her arms, the overnight bag slung over her shoulder like she had been standing there waiting for the exact second I would arrive. Zara’s little face lit up the instant she saw me, her smile wide and bright, like the day itself had just gotten better. Emily’s expression, on the other hand, stayed tight. Guarded. Carefully blank in a way that told me she was holding something back.
She handed Zara over without a word.
I felt the familiar weight of my daughter settle into my arms, solid and warm and real. Zara wrapped her arms around my neck immediately, pressing her cheek against mine. Emily shifted the bag into my free hand and then crouched down in front of her.
“Have fun, baby,” Emily said softly, brushing a curl back from Zara’s forehead.
Zara nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, Mommy.”
I nodded once, because anything more than that felt dangerous. “Thanks, Em.”
Emily did not reply. She just stepped back and closed the door quietly between us.
I stood there for a second, staring at the wood, waiting for it to open again. Waiting for her to say something else. Anything. But it stayed closed.
Zara squirmed in my arms. “Daddy.”
I looked down at her and forced a smile. “Yeah, princess?”
“We going on ad..adventu?”
I chuckled and shifted her higher on my hip as I walked toward the car. “Yeah. We’re going on an adventure.”
I buckled her into her car seat, making sure the straps were snug, checking them twice like I always did. She kicked her legs happily, humming to herself.
“Where we going?” she asked.
I leaned down and kissed her nose. “We’re going to see your grandmother today.”
Her eyes went huge.
“Grandma?” she gasped.
“Yep,” I said, closing the door gently. “Your grandma. She’s been waiting to meet you.”
Zara clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. “I have a grandma!”
The excitement in her voice made my chest tighten. “You sure do.”
The drive to my parents’ house took about forty minutes. Zara talked the entire way, barely stopping to breathe. She told me about her Barbie dream house, about how she wanted a purple cake for her birthday, about how she was going to hug Grandma so tight that Grandma would never forget her.
I laughed and answered every question, keeping my voice light. But inside, I was spiraling.
Mom had not answered a single call or text since the DNA results. Not one. I did not know if she would even open the door. I did not know if this was too much, too soon. I only knew that keeping Zara away any longer felt wrong.
We pulled into the driveway just after eight. The porch light was on, casting that familiar warm glow over the front of the house. Everything looked the same. The white siding. The flower beds my mom still tended every spring. The old porch swing Dad had hung when I was ten, creaking softly in the breeze.
I cut the engine and glanced back at Zara.
She had fallen asleep sometime during the drive, her cheek pressed against the window, tiny mouth open, breathing slow and even.
I sat there for a moment, just watching her. Memorizing the curve of her cheek. The way her lashes rested against her skin.
I unbuckled her carefully and lifted her out of the car. She stirred when the cool night air hit her face but did not fully wake. I adjusted her on my shoulder, grabbed her bag, and walked up the path.
My hand hesitated over the doorbell.
Then I rang it.
Footsteps sounded inside. The lock turned.
Mom opened the door.
She had not checked the peephole. I could tell immediately. She froze the second she saw me. Her eyes dropped to Zara’s sleeping face against my shoulder, and for a long moment, she just stared.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Tears welled instantly, spilling over before she could stop them.
Zara stirred, blinking sleepily. She lifted her head and stared at the woman in the doorway, studying her face like she was trying to place her in a puzzle she had not known was missing.
“Grandma?” she asked in that small, curious voice.
I swallowed. “Yes, baby. That’s Grandma.”
My mom let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. She reached out instinctively, arms opening, then stopped herself when Zara shrank closer to me.
Mom nodded quickly, wiping at her cheeks. “Come in,” she said softly. “Please. Come in.”
I stepped inside.
The house smelled exactly the same. Lemon cleaner. Coffee. A faint hint of vanilla from Mom’s candles. The living room light was on, and the television was paused. Dad sat in his recliner, remote in hand.
He looked up and froze.
“Is that…?” His voice cracked before he could finish.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Dad stood so fast the recliner rocked backward. His eyes filled immediately, his gaze locked on Zara like she was the only thing in the room.
I set her down gently. “Come on, princess,” I said softly. “Go hug Grandpa.”
She hesitated, gripping my leg for a second. Dad crouched down slowly, careful not to scare her.
“Hi there,” he said gently. “I’m Grandpa.”
Zara studied him, then stepped forward. Dad scooped her up the second she was close enough, holding her tight against his chest.
“Oh my God,” he said, his voice breaking. “Look at you.”
Zara giggled and patted his cheek. “You’re Grandpa?”
“I sure am, sweetheart.”
I turned to look for Mom.
She was gone.
Dad was rocking Zara gently now, murmuring things I could not quite hear. Zara laughed at something he said, the sound bright and carefree.
I touched Dad’s shoulder. “I’m going to go find Mom.”
He nodded without looking away. “Go on.”
I walked down the hallway toward their bedroom. The door was cracked open, light spilling into the hall. I pushed it wider.
Mom sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried.
I stepped inside quietly. “Mom?”
She looked up, eyes red and swollen, cheeks streaked with tears.
“Can I come in?” I asked softly.
She nodded.
I closed the door gently behind me and sat beside her on the bed.
I swallowed hard. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She nodded, tears shining. “Yeah, honey. I think I do.”