Daniel didn’t try again. She heard him sigh. Then, silently, everyone piled back into the pickup truck.

The mood on the drive home couldn’t have been more different from the mood on the way there. It was almost as if the air was permeated with anxiety. Chantelle’s cute outfit suddenly seemed like a façade, like they’d dressed her up in order to trick Laura into viewing them like any other happy, uncomplicated family when they were in fact anything but. Their pasts – hers, Daniel’s, even Chantelle’s – complicated everything. And worse than that, their pasts complicated their very beings, their personalities, their abilities to deal with pressure and stress, their abilities to relate to one another.

For what felt like the hundredth time since he proposed, Emily wondered what was really going on inside Daniel’s head.

When Emily had first told Daniel about her desire to adopt Chantelle, they’d contacted their friend Richard Goldsmith, who was a custody attorney from town. An informal chat had taken place in the inn over coffee and cake. But this time, their meeting was taking place in his office in town. This time it felt serious and very real.

Emily nervously smoothed down her skirt as she and Daniel entered the plush office, which looked like something out of a story book, set in an old red brick building covered with climbing ivy. Emily couldn’t help her feelings of apprehension. What if Richard had bad news? What if she would never be able to become Chantelle’s real, legal mother like the little girl seemed to desire as much as Emily herself?

The receptionist, a young woman with fiery ginger hair, welcomed them with a sweet, reassuring smile.

“Mr. Goldsmith will be with you shortly,” she said, without them even needing to introduce themselves. “He’s just been held up with another client.”

Emily squirmed and chewed her lip. Client. It felt odd to think of herself in such a way. But that’s what she was, and what she must be to achieve her goal. Taking legal custody of Chantelle wasn’t just a matter of chatting with an acquaintance on her porch over coffee anymore. It would involve lawyers and courts, judges and legal documentation. This was real and she needed to get used to it.

Emily steeled herself. She could handle this. She had to; she loved Chantelle too much to fail, to wilt under the pressure. But there was another part of Emily that was still reeling from Saturday’s failed trip to the wedding venue and the way Daniel had clammed up at the mere suggestion of selecting a season during which they would be wed. If he was changing his mind about this, he needed to be brave and tell her before things got serious, before contracts were signed and hearts were too much on the line to turn back. The words of her family and friends still repeated in Emily’s mind, that Daniel was using her because he wanted someone to raise Chantelle for him, that Emily had made it too easy on him. She’d let him live rent free on the grounds of her property, she’d taken his child in without question, and had forgiven him so quickly for those long six weeks during which he’d prioritized his child over her. But what they didn’t accept or understand was how all those things made her love him more: his resourcefulness and resilience during the years he’d lived in the carriage house, the care he’d shown the property during the decades it had stood empty, keeping it on life support in case Roy Mitchell returned, and the fact he’d stepped up for Chantelle without question, proving himself to be a real man, the sort that didn’t shirk his responsibilities, that put his child’s needs over his own.