He kisses my hand, presses it to his heart, then returns inside the condo, leaving me alone.
I reach for a strawberry, not in a hurry to tear open the letter.
When I’ve eaten half the food on the tray and finished my coffee, I watch as Carter runs down the beach, headed toward our driftwood.
In tidy handwriting on the envelope, it reads, To Her.
I carefully open the sealed envelope and pull out a letter from Darcy.
Hello,
I hope you’re having a delicious glass of wine, and maybe some dessert as you read this. I want you to think of this letter as girl talk between friends, even though I’m the only one talking.
So you’re the one Carter has chosen to spend the rest of his life with. I don’t have to tell you that you’re a lucky woman. You already know that. But I’d like to tell you that he’s lucky, too. Because if he chose you, you’re an incredible person. A woman capable of loving not only Carter but also our Gabby girl, and not every woman is up for the challenge of raising a child that didn’t come from her body.
It feels condescending to try to give you advice. I don’t mean it that way. But I know this man well, and there are some bits and pieces I can share.
When he’s afraid, he’ll clam up. You’ll think he’s mad or that he’s pulling away from you, but he really just shuts down when he’s scared. It pisses me off, and I try to be patient with him.
I hope you have better luck with that than I have.
He hates peanut butter. I don’t know why. But trust me, it’s a thing.
My family will yank you into their fold and love you. That’s just who they are. My parents are solid and they love their kids fiercely. I admit, I’m more of a daddy’s girl. You’ll absolutely love him.
I have to pause and wipe a tear. Darcy’s father passed away not even a year after she did. But she’s right, I did like him very much.
Gabby’s just a little girl. I’m sure you can imagine how much it’s killing me to leave her. She still needs me. But it’s reassuring to know that you’re there for her. For all the moments that I’ll miss. Her graduation, college years, her wedding, and even having her own babies.
I really was looking forward to being covered in grandchildren.
Do that for me, won’t you? Love her, and her babies, the way I would.
It won’t be easy. None of it. But it’ll be so worth it. And even though you don’t need it, you have my blessing.
Congratulations.
Love,
Darcy
Well. What’s a girl supposed to say to that?
I read it once again before setting it aside and settling back in my chair. I liked Darcy. I didn’t know her well, but the few times I had any interaction with her, I liked her very much.
My phone pings with a text from Gabby.
Gabby: YOU SAID YES!! Show me the rock.
I laugh and take a picture of my left hand, then send it through.
Me: Your dad didn’t show you?
Gabby: No, I didn’t see him after he picked it up. Wow, it’s so pretty! Do you like it?
Me: What’s not to love.
Gabby: Right? So pretty. Yay! Also, I don’t want to make this weird, but I’m gonna call you Mom, unless you hate the idea. Because I called Darcy Mommy. I was still little then. And you’re my mom. Okay?
I pause to take a breath. It seems the Shaw women are trying to turn me into a giant puddle of mushy goo today.
Me: Totally okay.
Gabby: Cool. Okay, Grandma’s taking me to the movies. Love you, Mom!
Me: Love you more, kiddo.
I set my phone aside and watch as Carter jogs toward me, his run almost finished. I pinch my arm, and then frown at the sting.
Yep, I’m awake.
And this life, this beautiful amazing life full of new sisters, a big family, a daughter that makes me crazy, and the sexiest man on earth, is mine.
It seems I believe in happy endings after all.
Epilogue
~Maggie~
Five years later . . .
“Is she okay?” Nora asks. We’re sitting on the porch of my little guesthouse on the family property in Martha’s Vineyard, watching as all the children play in the pool.
“Oh yes, dear. This little love is just snoozing the afternoon away.” I feel her little round cheek and smile when her lips pucker. “Eliza is such a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” Nora replies with a soft smile, watching her youngest daughter sleep in my arms. “She’s a good baby.”
“You were due for one,” I say as I look out over the yard, searching for our little four-year-old. “Lucy was a handful when she was an infant.”
“She’s still a handful,” Nora agrees and then scoots to the edge of her chair when she sees Lucy stepping a little too close to the edge of the deep end of the pool. “Oh, baby, don’t get so close.”