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“What? Yea girl. Fine. Just work stuff.” Paige waved a dismissive hand, but the slight color in her cheeks told a different story.

“Mm-hmm. Okay, whatever.”

“Bye, wig and wigette. I know she gon’ be dramatic and nosy just like her auntie and momma. I’m fine.”

“I hope she bites you when she gets her teeth,” Taylor said, laughing as Paige gasped.

They both cracked up, the kind of laugh that let you know everything was alright.

Later, as Taylor was adjusting the bow on Denver’s head, getting her ready to tear into her smash cake, her mother stepped up beside her.

“Beautiful party—for my beautiful grandbaby,” she said, grinning at Denver, who burst into giggles.

“She’s such a happy baby. Reminds me of you.”

“Hopefully I leave this world that way too,” Taylorsaid softly.

Her mother nodded, eyes drifting across the yard. “With that man of yours… Lord have mercy. I believe you will. You chose well, baby.”

Taylor’s eyes followed hers, landing on Brooks as he tossed one of the older kids in the air, superhero style.

“I did, didn’t I?”

Her mother leaned in a bit closer. “Ran into Tyree’s aunt at the grocery store last week. Said he moved back to Memphis. Working at some detailing shop. Got himself a little apartment. Quiet.”

Taylor sipped her lemonade. “Good for him.”

“She also said he wants to apologize.”

Taylor kept her gaze on the yard, calm and unfazed. “Not necessary.”

She didn’t need an apology. She’d already released him. Prayed for him. Wished him well. What he had going on wasn’t hers to carry anymore. And as much as her mother meant well, they were just wired differently.

Her mama studied her for a beat, proud and just a little surprised.

“I won’t bring him up again.”

“Appreciate that.”

The rest of the afternoon flowed easy. Cake was cut. Denver smashed more frosting into her curls than her mouth. The gifts piled up ridiculously high for a one-year-old. Laughter filled the yard, their once-separated worlds now seamlessly blended—family, friends, found and chosen.

“That boy’s something special,” Reverend Bradshaw said to Brooks, nodding toward the teen helping the little kids fill water balloons, his face lit upwith easy laughter.

Brooks followed his gaze and smiled. “Yeah. That’s Jacques. He’s been through more than most kids his age, but he’s solid. Blake and Emon took him and his sisters in last year. Changed everything.”

The reverend nodded, his voice softer now. “Family does that. Gives us roots. Stability.”

Brooks met his father-in-law’s eyes, finding nothing but genuine respect there. The relationship that had started out rocky had evolved into something solid, not always easy. But they had a mutual understanding.

“I was lucky,” Brooks acknowledged. “Got the chance of a lifetime when Taylor called me that night. Not everyone gets that.”

Reverend Bradshaw nodded thoughtfully. “No, they don’t.” He clasped Brooks’ shoulder briefly.

Before he could respond, Taylor appeared with Denver, now freshly changed after her cake adventure.

“There go my girls,” Brooks said, reaching for his daughter, who immediately lunged for him with a happy “Da!”

Taylor smiled, watching them together, this man who radiated strength and power to the outside world, but handled their daughter with such tenderness. “She’s getting sleepy,” she observed. “Probably time to start winding down the party.”