Chapter 9 - The First Birthday We Got To Celebrate Together
The twins’ first birthday was the biggest party our small town had ever seen. We held it in our backyard, the playground my dad had built decorated with balloons and streamers, a bounce house in the corner, a table piled high with pizza and cake and ice cream. All our friends and family were there—my dad, David and his wife, Sarah and her kids, Jake and his girlfriend, the neighbors who’d brought us meals when we first moved back home, even Maria the notary and her daughter Lila, who’d become like family to us after the trial.
Lily and Noah were the stars of the show, of course, dressed in matching little outfits—Lily in a pink dress with a big bow in her hair, Noah in a tiny blue suit and bow tie—smashing their faces into their first birthday cakes, covered in frosting from head to toe, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. They opened dozens of presents—books, toys, tiny clothes, a little rocking horse from my dad that he’d built himself, painted bright red with their names carved into the side.
Mid-party, I pulled Emily aside, under the big oak tree in the corner of the yard, away from the noise and the chaos. She was holding a piece of cake, frosting on her cheek, smiling so wide her eyes crinkled at the corners. I wiped the frosting off with my thumb, kissing her soft.
“Happy birthday to our babies,” I said. “Can you believe it’s been a year since I found you on that road? Feels like yesterday. And a lifetime ago, all at once.”
She leaned into me, watching the twins chase each other around the yard, Lily holding Noah’s hand, both of them screaming with laughter as my dad chased them, pretending to be a monster. “I know. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and I reach over, and you’re there, and I can hear the twins breathing in the next room, and I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. That I’m not back in that car, cold and scared, alone with two babies, wondering if I’d ever see you again.”
I held her tighter. “You’re not dreaming, baby. This is real. We’re real. And no one is ever going to take that away from us again.”
A week after the party, we got a letter in the mail from the district attorney’s office. Ashley had been found guilty on all counts—attempted murder, fraud, stalking, weapons possession, witness tampering, perjury. The judge had sentenced her to 32 years in federal prison, with no chance of parole. She’d be 70 years old when she got out. If she lived that long.
We didn’t celebrate the letter. We didn’t throw a party or open a bottle of champagne. We just held each other, quiet, for a long time, letting the weight of it finally lift off our shoulders. It was over. Really, truly, permanently over. Ashley was gone. She’d never be able to hurt us again. Never be able to look at our kids. Never be able to come between us.
That night, we took the twins to the cemetery to visit my mom. We brought her a bouquet of her favorite yellow roses, and I sat the twins down in front of her headstone, telling them all about their grandma—how she’d been the kindest, strongest woman I’d ever known, how she’d loved Emily like her own daughter, how she was watching over all of us from heaven. Lily reached out, touching the stone with her tiny hand, and smiled, like she could feel her there.
May you like
On the drive home, Emily turned to me, her eyes soft. “What do you think she’d say? If she could see us now.”
I smiled, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “I think she’d say I told you so. She always knew we’d find our way back to each other. No matter how hard things got. She always said we were meant to be.”
