Give her something imperfect and real instead of nothing at all. He sat down beside her. She's going to love it. You think so? I know so.
Victoria picked up another page. This one showing a stick figure man and child in a bookstore. This is you guys the day we met. We look very stick-like. I told you I can't draw.
You captured our essence. She laughed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Help me finish it. I can't draw either. Then we'll both be terrible together.
They spent the morning working on the book, laughing at their combined artistic incompetence, creating something that would never win awards but meant everything. By lunch, they had a complete story, rough and imperfect and absolutely perfect. Now I just need to bind it, Victoria said, surveying their work. I know someone who does book binding. I can ask her.
Really? Really? She owes me a favor. What kind of favor? I helped her find a first edition of her favorite novel.
She cried when I gave it to her. Victoria smiled. You're good at this, at knowing what people need. Not always, but I try. She kissed him, marker stained fingers tangling in his hair.
I love you. I love you, too. Even when I'm a disaster, especially then. The next two weeks passed in a blur. The bookstore stayed busy, requiring both of them there most days.
Ava's birthday party got planned in stolen moments between customers. Victoria's handmade book got bound by Ethan's bookbinder friend, who declared it charmingly amateur and refused payment. The morning of Ava's 9th birthday, she burst into their room at 6:00 a. M. "I'm nine," she announced, bouncing on the bed.
Ethan groaned. Victoria pulled a pillow over her head. That's wonderful, sweetheart. Ethan managed. Can we celebrate in two more hours?
No, it's my birthday. I've been nine for six whole hours already. You were asleep for 6 whole hours. But I was still nine. Victoria emerged from under her pillow.
Hair everywhere. Mascara smudged. Happy birthday, Ava. Thanks, V. Can we have cake for breakfast?
No, Ethan and Victoria said in unison. Why not? Because you'll throw up," Victoria added. "I won't. " "You will. Trust me on this. " Ava pouted, but accepted pancakes instead.
They sang to her over breakfast and offkey. She loved it. "Can we go to the bookstore? " she asked afterward. "The party's not until 3," Ethan said. "I know, but I want to go now.
Just us. " Ethan and Victoria exchanged looks. They'd planned to spend the morning setting up for the party, but Ava so rarely asked for things directly. "Okay," Victoria said. "Let's go to the bookstore. " They spent the morning there, just the three of them. Ava showed Victoria all her favorite spots, the reading nook behind the mystery section, the window seat overlooking the street, the place behind the counter where she liked to draw during slow periods.
This is where I come when I'm sad. Ava said, pointing to the nook. You come here when you're sad? Victoria knelt beside her. Yeah, books make me feel better.
What makes you sad? Ava shrugged, suddenly shy. Sometimes I think about my mom. My first mom. The one who left.
Victoria's expression softened. That makes sense. Do you think she thinks about me? I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe.
Do you think she misses me? Victoria took a breath. I think anyone who walked away from you is missing out on something amazing. But I also think that's her loss, not yours. But what if I wasn't enough?
What if that's why she left? No. Victoria's voice was firm. You listen to me. You are enough.
You have always been enough. People leave for their own reasons, and those reasons are never about the people they leave behind. Your first mom left because something was broken in her, not in you. How do you know? Because I know you and you're extraordinary.
Ava's eyes filled with tears. I wish you were my real mom. Victoria's breath caught. Ava, I know you're not. I know you didn't give birth to me or whatever, but you're here.
You showed up. You love me. That feels more real than someone who left. Victoria pulled her close, her own eyes wet. I do love you so much.
Then why can't you be my mom? My real mom. Victoria looked at Ethan over Ava's head, helpless. He knelt beside them both. Ava, he said gently.
What if V could be your real mom? Would you want that? Ava pulled back from Victoria, confused. What do you mean? I mean, what if we made it official through adoption?
Ava's eyes went wide. You can do that? We can, Victoria said, her voice shaking. If you want, I could legally become your mother. Really?
Really? Would you be my mom forever? Forever? And you wouldn't leave? Victoria cuped her face.
Never. I promise you, Ava. I will never leave you. Ava threw her arms around Victoria's neck so hard they both almost fell over. Yes.
Yes. I want that. Victoria was crying openly now, holding Ava like she was the most precious thing in the world, which to her she was. "We'll start the process tomorrow," Ethan said, his own throat tight. "It might take a while.
There's paperwork and interviews, and I don't care how long it takes," Ava said, pulling back to look at Victoria. "As long as it happens. " "It'll happen," Victoria promised. "I'll make sure of it. " They stayed there for a long time. The three of them tangled together on the floor of the bookstore, crying and laughing and holding each other. When they finally pulled apart, Ava's face was bright with joy.
"This is the best birthday present ever," she said. "We haven't even had your party yet," Ethan pointed out. "I don't care. This is better than any party. " Victoria wiped her eyes, smiling. Speaking of presents, I have something else for you.
She pulled out the handmade book from her bag. Ava's eyes widened. "You made this? " "I did with help from your dad. " Ava took it reverently, running her fingers over the cover. Victoria had titled it The Lonely Woman and the Bookstore. Can I read it now?
Of course. Ava opened to the first page. Victoria had drawn the woman in the tall building looking out over the city. Once there was a woman who had everything, Ava read aloud. Money and success and a company that answered to her.
But she was lonely. So lonely she'd forgotten what it felt like to not be alone. She turned the page. A man and small girl in a bookstore. And there was a man who had almost nothing.
Just a struggling bookstore and a daughter who was his whole world. He was lonely, too, but he had love. And that made all the difference. Another page. The woman walking into the bookstore.
One day, the lonely woman walked into the bookstore. She didn't know why. She just felt pulled there, like something was waiting for her. When she saw the man and his daughter, something inside her cracked open. Ava kept reading, engrossed.
The story unfolded across crude drawings and careful words. The hospital meeting, the cafe lunches, the park, the accident, the slow building of something neither adult had expected. The last page showed three figures holding hands standing in front of a bookstore. And the woman learned that home isn't a place. Ava read, her voice thick with emotion.
It's people who show up. It's choosing love even when you're scared. It's becoming a family, not by blood, but by choice. She looked up at Victoria, tears streaming down her face. This is about us.
Yes, you were the lonely woman. I was, "But you're not lonely anymore. " Victoria shook her head. "Not even a little bit. " Ava launched herself at Victoria again, the book clutched carefully in one hand. This is the best thing anyone's ever given me. Victoria held her tight, looking at Ethan over Ava's shoulder.
He mouthed, "I love you," and she mouthed it back. The party that afternoon was beautiful chaos. Kids everywhere, cakes smashed into carpets, presents torn open with gleeful abandon. But Ava kept the handmade book close, showing it to anyone who would look. "My mom made this for me," she told her friend Sophie.