Chapter 15
Elliot came home after twenty-three days.
Home meant my house.
Not Richard’s mansion.
Not the nursery Eleanor designed in gray and gold.
My house with creaky floors, too many law books, and a guest room Maya and I turned into a nursery at midnight with bad instructions and worse screws.
Khloe cried when she saw it.
“You did all this?”
“Maya did most of it. I held things incorrectly.”
Maya nodded.
“He was useful as furniture.”
Khloe laughed.
Elliot slept through the insult.
That first night was terrifying.
Every sound from the baby monitor sent Khloe upright.
Every car passing the street made her freeze.
I slept on the couch.
Maya took the chair.
Avery stayed in the guest room across the hall.
We were ridiculous.
We were necessary.
At 3:11 a.m., Elliot cried.
Khloe reached him before any of us.
She held him against her chest and whispered, “I’ve got you.”
I stood in the doorway.
She looked at me.
“I’m scared I’ll break.”
“You might bend.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s what I’ve got.”
She smiled tiredly.
“I’ll take it.”
The next weeks were full of hearings, feedings, nightmares, legal calls, and tiny victories.
Elliot gained weight.
Khloe walked without holding the wall.
She deleted Richard’s number.
Then blocked it.
Then unblocked it because fear told her she needed to know.
Then blocked it again because Dr. Patel told her fear was not always instruction.
I learned to make formula.
Badly.
Khloe learned to ask for help.
Worse.
One afternoon, she stood in the kitchen holding Elliot and said, “I want my name back.”
“Cole?”
She nodded.
“I was Khloe Cole before him.”
“You still are.”
She cried.
“Can Olivia file it?”
“She already drafted it.”
Khloe laughed through tears.
May you like
“You two are impossible.”
“Yes,” I said. “But efficient.”
