“Well, you came into Rise & Grind a couple of years ago and immediately made us fall in love with you. Then you brought Ashton in, and we were doomed.”
I clear my throat to rid myself of the lump and pretend there are no tears in my eyes as I suck up a mouthful of coffee. I’m not surprised Tristan has shown up to be at my side for the hearing—or as ‘at my side’ as he can be, depending on what the judge allows. I’d told him and Luci the truth only three days ago. Neither had been happy I kept it from them for so long, but they understood once I explained.
Now, they have my back as much as they always have.
Gesturing toward the bedroom, I leave him in the kitchen so I can dress for the day. Ashton stirs when I open the door, and I hurry to dress in the sharp pantsuit I’d bought for a job interview a year ago. I finish then grab an outfit for Ashton from the top dresser drawer. He fusses but ultimately lets me change his diaper and his clothes. His irritation vanishes when he sees Tristan in the kitchen.
I watch the clock, nausea twisting my stomach, as Ashton eats a toaster pastry and drinks a cup of milk. Once he’s done, Tristan cleans him up while I wash the plate. I close my eyes, draw in a tremulous breath, then reach for Ashton’s hand. He takes it without hesitation, smiling up at me. A tear slips free despite my best efforts, and I wipe it away before he can question it. Tristan follows us out of the apartment and to the parking garage.
“Nervous?” he asks as he buckles his seatbelt.
“Beyond. Tris, this… This has the potential to screw everything up. I could lose Ash forever based off the judgment of one person. One single person can destroy my life.”
Tristan reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. “It’ll be okay. No matter what, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
I don’t want to, but I’m forced to leave Ashton with Tristan in an antechamber just before the courtroom. I kiss my nephew’s forehead, swearing I’ll be right back, then step through the door.
Katie sits on one side of the room; her orange jumpsuit washes out her tan skin, but she looks better than I remember seeing her in a long time. She looks healthy, even if not happy. I stare for a moment before finding the guardianship attorney I’d hired. The woman smiles and leans forward.
“We’ve got a good shot,” she assures me.
I only nod silently.
The judge enters, calls everything to order, and the world spins on its axis, wild swinging arcs that torment me. I swallow down bile and struggle to answer any question asked of me, to listen as Katie does the same. She doesn’t lie—she doesn’t change her mind. She tells the judge exactly what she’d told me on that fateful phone call.
“I love my son enough to do what’s best for him,” Katie says, and I glance at her ex-stepsister. “I haven’t always shown that I love him, but I do. And I know Dealla is the best thing for him. She has been since the beginning.”
The judge’s brow rises, and he leans back in his chair. “And where is the father in all this?”
“He, uh, he died of an overdose when Ashton was two months old.”
My stomach falls to the floor. I’d never known that. Katie never spoke of Ashton’s father, and now it makes sense. She knew none of us would approve of him, even after his death, so she’d kept it a secret. A sharp twinge pulls at my heart, and I look at Katie in a new light.
“Miss Gutwein, I expect you’ve thought long and hard about this, and it isn’t just a way to deflect your responsibility as a parent.”
“I’ve been thinking about this every day since I was arrested. I want the last thing I do as his mother to be what is in his best interest.”
The judge stares at Katie with narrowed eyes then turns to me. My head swims, prompting me tobreathe, and I tremble as I await his words. Holding his chin with the fingers of one hand, he scrutinizes me, considers me, deliberates on the future of more than just me. He’s deciding the fate of an innocent two-year-old child.
“Miss Higgins, you are willing to take on full parental responsibility for this child?”
“I am,” I whisper, cough quietly, repeat myself louder.
“If I award you custody, Miss Higgins, you will not have a life of your own for the next sixteen years. You will have all responsibilities of being a biological parent.”
“I know. I—I’m ready for it.”
The silence stretches on, and I barely manage to not squirm under the weight of his gaze. My hand itches to reach for Katie, to hold her hand like we’d done as kids when scared. To cling to the children they used to be and seek comfort from the touch. But Katie isn’t who she was. She’s made too many mistakes to go back to her old self. And I am different, too.
“It is the belief of this court,” the judge begins before clearing his throat, “that the child, Ashton Alexander Gutwein, should no longer remain in his mother’s care. With that said, I have taken into consideration the mother’s wishes. I award you, Miss Higgins, custody of said child.”
It’s Katie who says what’s on my tongue: “Thank you, your Honor.”
Stepping out of the courthouse into the bright December morning feels like stepping into another world. Tristan walks beside me with Ashton between us; the toddler’s hand fits so well wrapped with mine, and I blink away the heat in my eyes. Though my life wasn’t supposed to be like this, I can find no complaints. Katie made decisions, both poor and good, and I may be the one picking up the pieces, but this is a jigsaw that I don’t mind putting back together.
One piece is missing, though.
On the drive home, I tell Tristan what happened in the courtroom, and he pumps a fist in the air at the news. He gives me a smug smile but doesn’t say the ‘I told you so’ that I know is held behind his teeth. I’m thankful for that. I’m not sure I’d have such restraint were I in his shoes.
