Page 66 of His Long-Lost Baby

As we discuss ideas and timelines, I can feel Quinn nodding off on my lap. I smile down at her and gently shift her to the couch, tucking her in with a soft blanket.

Monica flits around the office, tidying up the arts and crafts she and Quinn were doing. “You know, I think this is the start of something great for us,” she says, turning to me with a smile.

I nod in agreement, feeling a new sense of hope and purpose. “Yeah, it really could be.”

Monica reaches out and squeezes my shoulder in a gesture of support. “And who knows, maybe this could bring some closure for you too.”

I freeze at her words, my mind flashing back to James and the hurt I still feel. Monica must sense my discomfort because she quickly backtracks. “I mean, not that you should rely on work to fix everything, but it could be a positive distraction.”

I force a smile, trying to push away the pain. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just hard, you know?”

Monica nods in sympathy. “Of course. But we’ll get through this together. And you never know, something even better might be waiting for you around the corner.”

I take a deep breath, feeling grateful for my friend’s unwavering support. She’s been there for me through thick and thin, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. As she finishes tidying up, I start to feel a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe this new project really is the start of something great. Maybe it’s time to let go of the past and focus on the future.

“Mommy?” Quinn has gotten up from the couch and is now messing with the potted plant in the corner.

“Please be gentle with that,” I tell her. “The soil will go everywhere.”

“Why don’t I have a daddy?”

I swear, I stop breathing.

Monica and I find each other’s gaze across the room, and she looks just as freaked out as I do.

Talk about timing.

I clear my throat, trying to figure out how best to approach this topic. Quinn knows she’s adopted, but beyond that she’s never asked any questions about her birth family.

“Well, sweetie, not all families have a daddy,” I say gently, hoping to avoid any further questions.

“But why not?” Quinn persists.

I exchange a meaningful look with Monica, silently asking for her help.

“Families look all kinds of ways, you know,” Monica chimes in, crouching down next to Quinn. “And you know what? That’s okay. All families are unique and special in their own way.”

Quinn seems to accept this answer for now, rummaging around in her backpack and pulling out a pot of slime. I know this won’t be the end of her questions, though. I make a mental note to have a more in-depth conversation with her about her adoption soon.

“I wish I had a daddy,” Quinn says softly.

Her words are a knife right through my heart.

She does have a father. He’s just not here.

She’ll never know him.

…Unless he decides to get in touch and meet her.

Would I even want that, though? Would it even be good for Quinn?

This whole situation is so messed up. I don’t even know how I feel about it anymore. The only thing that I understand for sure is that I’m heartbroken.

Monica clears her throat. “Hey, Billie. Can you help me get something from the hall closet?”

I nod, grateful for the distraction. Monica follows me to the hall and closes the door behind us.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, placing a hand on my arm.