Page 328 of Wild Card 13

Zee whispered, “Should we draw on him?”

Seven people warned, “No,” at the same time.

Around three in the morning, Lo cried silently into a napkin and Freya tucked an arm around her shoulders. Ezra stopped pacing only when Arlo physically handed him a sandwich and said, “Eat before you wear holes in those shoes.”

At five, the sky outside the windows began to pale.

Ty’s hand never let go of mine.

I dozed in pieces against his shoulder, waking every time thedoors opened, every time someone moved too quickly, every time the hope in the room rose and fell like a tide.

Then, just before nine in the morning, the doors opened and Alois stepped into the waiting room.

I had seen Alois after fights. After wins. After losses. I had seen him furious, silent, controlled, amused in ways that barely qualified as expressions.

I had never seen him like that. His hair was a mess. His shirt was wrinkled. His eyes were red. And his face had been remade.

Not softened exactly. Alois would never be soft in a way the world could easily name. But something had opened in him, something raw and stunned and so full of awe.

“My daughter was born at 8:19,” he sang out.

A sound moved through the room. Not a cheer yet. Not quite. A collective inhale, maybe. A hundred hearts catching at once.

Alois swallowed. “Helena Clementine Ribeiro Müller,” he said. “Seven pounds, eleven ounces. Twenty inches. Bea and baby are doing wonderfully.”

Lo’s hand flew to her mouth.

Ezra bowed his head.

Ty pressed his mouth to my temple.

I thought of Dottie asleep on his floor with her toys in the corner. My toothbrush beside his sink. Paper Lantern cups on my desk. The way he had made room without making demands. The way I had kept choosing him, one ordinary morning at a time, until choosing him in front of everyone had felt less like a leap and more like telling the truth.

Ty’s thumb brushed over mine. “You okay?”

I looked at Alois. At Lo crying. At Ezra’s hand pressed to his mouth. At Arlo wiping at his eyes and pretending he was not. At the team gathered around this baby none of them had met yet and already loved with the reckless, ridiculous loyalty that made them family.

Then I looked at Ty and squeezed his hand. “Yeah,” I breathed out. “I’m perfect.”

“You are,” he whispered back.

CHAPTER 42

BUZZ

NOW

By the time Lucy got to the lake house, I had already made a fire in August like a man with absolutely no respect for the calendar.

In my defense, the sky had gone mean after dinnertime. Rain hit the windows in heavy sheets, not quite sideways but close enough that the lake had disappeared behind it. The trees along the shore bent and shuddered every time thunder rolled over the water, and the whole house had gone gold and shadowy in the kind of way that made a person believe summer could still have corners.

Also, Lucy liked the fire.

The house had plenty of heat. It had blankets. It had electricity, despite the occasional flicker that made the lamps blink like they were considering giving up. But Lucy liked the fire, so I had stacked the wood, lit it, and stood there like a complete idiot watching flames catch while pretending I had not been counting minutes since her last text.

Lucy: Leaving the arena now. Dottie is offended by the rain.

Lucy: Dottie would like you to know this is your fault somehow.