Cancel Carrie and focus on your family

Linda: "But I figured I should at least show my face so she doesn't-"

You: "Cancel it."

The words come out more directly than you intended. Linda blinks.

You: "I mean, I came home early because I want to spend time with my family. You and Ashley."

You reach out to take her hands in yours.

You: "Let's go somewhere nice tonight. Dinner, the three of us. When's the last time we did that?"

Linda's resistance crumbles almost instantly. You watch it happen in real time, the brief flicker of obligation toward Carrie dissolving already. Her face softens.

Linda: "You're right. You're absolutely right. Carrie can wait."

She kisses your cheek and you let her hands go. She picks up her phone and types a message.

Linda: "There. Done. Now, let me finish getting ready for my husband instead."

She smiles cheekily, then kisses you again, this time on your lips. You leave Linda to it and walk down the hallway you came from.

You knock on Ashley's door. The muffled sound of a TV show bleeds through.

You: "Hey, Ashley. Put on something nice. We're going out to dinner."

Ashley's door flies open. She's in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her headset around her neck, eyes bright.

Ashley: "Wait, really? Like a fancy place?"

You: "Like a fancy place."

Ashley (excited): "Give me fifteen minutes!"

She disappears, not before slamming her door in your face as always.

Ashley (calls from the other side): "Woah, sorry, daddy!"

You chuckle, surprised. Muscle memory, perhaps? You hear her closet doors bang open.

At the Restaurant

Chez Laurent is the kind of restaurant that makes you feel like you're spending money correctly. White tablecloths, ambient lighting, a sommelier who takes his job seriously. The hostess, a tall brunette, seats the three of you at a curved booth near the back.

Ashley has changed into a black dress that stops mid-thigh, her dark hair down and straightened. She looks older than twenty-one, more like a responsible young woman than the teenage brat you used to know.

Ashley slides into the chair next to you, bumping your shoulder playfully. Linda sits across from you in her revealing green dress, glowing under the candlelight.

Ashley: "This is so nice, Dad. I can't remember the last time we did something like this."

Linda: "That's because we never have."

She says it without bitterness, just a simple fact, tinged with wonder.

To you, it still feels extremely surreal, but you act the part.

The waiter, a young guy with a **** smile, takes your drink orders. Linda orders a glass of Sancerre. Ashley asks for a sparkling water with lemon, then changes her mind to wine, as well. She glances at you with a conspiratorial grin. You're not sure why or what it means, but you smile back before catching Linda's dreamy gaze. Your wife sighs.

Linda: "Look at us. An actual family dinner in such a lovely place. I could get used to this."

She reaches across the table and takes your hand, her thumb caressing your palm. Ashley leans against your arm, studying the menu.

Ashley: "Hey, Dad, what's a... 'confit de canard'?"

You're still not used to her calling you that, but you like it more every time she says it.

You: "Uh, that's duck. Slow-cooked in its own fat."

Ashley: "That sounds disgusting. I need something without meat."

You: "Oh, right. But there's still plenty of options for you, look..."

The evening unfolds with an ease that feels almost too perfect. The food arrives. Ashley steals fries from your plate. You tell a story about a disastrous vacation you took in your twenties that has Ashley crying with laughter.

At one point, Ashley excuses herself for the restroom. Linda leans forward. Her face lit up by candlelight, and you think she's beautiful.

Linda: "Adam, I need you to know something. Sitting here, watching you with her... this is the happiest I've been in years. Maybe ever. I just..."

She squeezes your hand harder.

Linda: "I love you so much."

You: "I love you, too."

You feel a pinch of guilt. Just a pinch.

Ten months later

The nursery used to be the guest room, the one Linda kept immaculate for visitors who never came. Now it smells like fresh paint. A soft green that Ashley picked out after three hours of deliberation at the hardware store. You remember she was holding swatches against the light and frowning like she was defusing a bomb.

Ashley: "Boys should grow up surrounded by nature colors. Not that stupid baby blue crap."

You stand in the doorway now and watch Linda arrange onesies in the dresser drawer. She's enormous, almost eight months along. Her belly strains against the cream-colored maternity dress she bought last week. Her brown hair is longer than she's ever worn it, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. Pregnancy has also softened her face, filled out her cheeks, and given her skin a luminosity that makes her look five years younger.

Linda moves slowly, folding tiny garments with methodical care. She braces one hand against the small of her back.

Linda: "I think we have enough clothes for triplets. Your daughter has a shopping problem."

Your daughter. It does feel like that. You smile.

You (warm): "She's just excited."

Linda: "You can say that again. She bought him a onesie that says 'My Big Sister Is A Boss.'"

But Linda is smiling when she says it. You love that smile. It used to be so rare, but now it's something you get to cherish constantly. She catches you watching her and tilts her head.

Linda: "What?"

You: "Nothing. You're beautiful."

Linda: "I'm a gross whale."

You: "A beautiful whale."

She looks at you, and her nostrils flare. You're about to take cover, but it's too late - Linda throws a balled-up sock at your head with deadly aim. Another one follows right after. Laughing, you admit defeat, beg for forgiveness, and finally retreat.

Downstairs, you can hear the muffled sounds of Ashley's music through her bedroom door. She's been studying for finals, and you even helped her and her friend Nicole in the fields where you could, especially in Chemistry. By now, you fully consider yourself as Ashley's dad, even though you had to help out to get the relationship repair started.

You don't like to think about that part.

It wasn't all easy either, come to think of it. The thing about Carrie is that she didn't go quietly. For the first two months, she was relentless. Texts, calls, showing up at the house with wine bottles and worried eyes. She could have had a chance, but Carrie always found a way to communicate her true stance about you, first bluntly, then subtly, until she gave up.

Linda was polite but firm. Ashley was worse: she simply stopped responding altogether, and when Carrie cornered her at uni in November, Ashley told her, with serene bluntness, that she didn't appreciate negativity about her family. That you are her dad, and that if Carrie can't accept it, Ashley doesn't see the point of them being close.

Carrie had cried. Her cousin, George, tried to mediate. It didn't help in the end. Because Linda and Ashley always preferred you and their new family over her, just like you wanted. By Christmas, the calls had dwindled to nothing. Linda sent a holiday card with a photo of the three of you, your arm around Linda's waist, Ashley leaning against your shoulder, and received nothing in return.

You know you could have handled her differently, but it also felt good to get back at her. She had actively tried to break you up for years, after all. In the end, life was better without her meddling, and your family agrees.

The footsteps on the stairs snap you back to the present. Ashley appears in the nursery doorway in an oversized sweatshirt and shorts, her black hair piled in a messy bun. She's holding a stuffed elephant the size of a toddler.

Ashley: "Okay, this is the last one, I swear."

Linda: "Ashley Willard, that elephant is bigger than the baby will be!"

Ashley: "Exactly. He needs a bodyguard."

Linda rolls her eyes, but keeps smiling. Ashley sets the elephant in the crib with exaggerated tenderness, then turns and places both hands on Linda's belly. The baby kicks, and Ashley's face breaks into an expression of such pure, unguarded wonder that something tightens in your throat.

Ashley: "Hey, little brother. It's your big sis. I'm gonna teach you everything. How to ride a bike, how to throw a punch, how to make Daddy's coffee exactly the way he likes it so he's in a good mood."

You (slowly, flatly): "Ha ha."

Linda laughs. You smile. Ashley grins up at you, and you are grateful for this perfect, suspended moment.

You've truly never been this content before.

Yet you still feel a pinch of guilt...

The End

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