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Key elbows him. “Language.”

“Oh, sorry, lass,” he says sheepishly. He notices Sorcha in her arms, his face lighting up. “And there’s the wee tottie of the hour! Come here, hen.”

My da takes a wiggling Sorcha, nuzzling her nose with his. It still makes my chest tight, seeing them together—it’s something I thought I would never have.

“And here’s Granny Greer too,” Da says, turning toward my mother. My mother’s usually tense features soften considerably at the sight of Sorcha, a magic our daughter has all her own. It’s impossible not to be enamored with her.

“Hello, love,” my mother says. “Happy birthday.”

“I two!”

My mother’s face splits into a grin. “Aye, that’s right. You sure are.”

“Right then,” my da pipes up. “Why don’t we go see if we can find you a sweet, aye?”

“Don’t let her fill up on junk before cake,” Key scolds.

I chuckle. “Technically, cake is also junk, love.”

“No one asked you,” she tuts.

My father scuttles off with my daughter, leaving the three of us behind. My mother looks around the room once more with emotion in her eyes, and I can see it, I think, how much healing she still has to do. I know that years of grief can’t be undone so easily. Still, it warms me to see her trying so hard.

She places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “This looks amazing, son.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, reaching to squeeze her hand back.

She pulls her hand away, only to press one palm against Key’s cheek and the other against mine, smiling softly. “I’m so proud of the both of you. Thank you for letting us be a part of Sorcha’s special day.”

“We’re happy you’re here,” Key tells her, and I feel my love for this woman grow impossibly.

My mother gives a slow nod, grinning at us once more before saying something about finding my father, leaving Key and me alone in Sorcha’s room.

“I’d better go and change her clothes,” Key says with a frown. “I have something that we can just toss after she inevitably gets filthy.” She turns her eyes to me. “Can you get the ice cream out so it can thaw a little?”

“Aye, I will,” I answer. “Be there in a bit.”

She closes the distance between us, lifting her mouth to mine, and even after so much time with her—the press of her lips feels no less life-changing than it did the first time. Her kisses mean as much and yetmorethan they did when we first shared them; now they are for skinned knees and bedtime and stolen moments on the couch and every blissfully normal thing in between that I wouldn’t have if not for her.

And I haven’t, for one moment, ever stopped being in awe of her.

“See you in a minute,” she says against my mouth.

My lips curve against hers. “Aye, you will.”

I watch Key leave the room in search of our daughter, that same sensation of feeling like my entire heart goes with them whenever they stray too far clenching my chest tight. I take another turn about Sorcha’s finished room, thinking of the memories she’ll make here, thatwe’llmake here—our new home resting on Greer land that sat long abandoned. The window was the final piece; I wasn’t sure about the painstaking process of moving it when Key first mentioned it, but with the help of her magic and a lot of careful work, it’s here now, watching over my daughter in the same way it watched over me as a child. I hope that, as she grows, it will remind her where she comesfrom, and when she’s old enough to hear the entire story of how she came to be—it will be a reminder that where she goes is entirely in her hands.

You arenotwho you are because of where you come from; you are who you are because of whereyouchoose to go.

Key’s words still stay rooted deep in my heart, just as much a comfort today as they were the first time she uttered them to me when I needed them most.

Maybe it’s the occasion of celebrating Sorcha’s birth that has me feeling so sentimental, or maybe it’s just that I’m so bloodygratefulfor what I have—but I can’t help sending out a silent thank-you to another Sorcha, hoping that wherever she is, she knows that even though a Greer almost took her life once, she ultimately gave life back to one. I hope that somewhere she knows that I will take care of her family, that I will never take them for granted.

Because they’re mine nowtoo.