Chapter 26

Caleb wakesup at five in the morning. I change him, feed him and set him in his jogger stroller. We go down to the track, and I run my daily five miles with him. I'm not sure when he falls asleep but by the time we're back in the penthouse, he's lost in dreamland again. I lay him down in his crib. As I'm about to head to my room to shower, quiet footsteps draw my attention.

When I turn around, I find Cora, sneaking around on her tiptoes.

"Morning, sweetpea." I squat down. "What are you doing up so early?"

She yawns hugely, scrubbing at her eyes. "I wan food."

I show her my watch. "It's pretty early for breakfast."

Cora heaves a big dramatic sigh, little shoulders slumping. "But I'm stawving."

I try hard not to smile at her antics. "Tell you what. We can bake some muffins together for breakfast. But you'll need to eat yogurt and fruit, too."

Cora stares at me for a few seconds, probably deciding if my offer is worth it or if she should go to her secret stash and use some of the food she's saved. Trying to get this kid to eat something that's more than cookies, a granola bar, or mac-n-cheese is an ongoing battle. I don't know if it's because that's all Izzy fed her or if she has a sensory issue with food. The therapist asked us not to force her, but to try to see if we could introduce new foods slowly.

We're all trying our best to entice her to new things but sometimes she makes it pretty impossible.

After some time deliberating she gives me a sharp nod. "Fine."

"Let's shake on it." I hold out my hand. "I'll mix some berries with it, and, while you eat it, I'll get the ingredients for our muffins."

"Otay, deal." She grasps my hand, grinning impishly. She's probably going to fake that she tried it or just say it's disgusting. This kid is going to be good at negotiating deals.

Laughing, I ruffle her hair and then we head toward the kitchen, where we quickly wash our hands. It doesn't take me long to chop some strawberries and add them to some yogurt. It's not much, but it's enough for her to try and hopefully like it.

In no time, Cora shows off the empty bowl with a proud flourish. "Done. Now muffins?"

I, of course, nod and pull the flour mix from the pantry. Then, start reading the ingredients we need to add to the mixer—butter, milk, and eggs. As we begin to prepare the muffins, Cora follows my instructions, helping me measure and mix.

It doesn't take long for her to be dusted with flour and have a smudge of mix on her nose. The enthusiasm of this kid is infectious. I can't help but smile as she stirs the batter with such determination.I'm beginning to wonder if we should include her in meal preps every time we're in the kitchen. It might make her more inclined to try what she cooks herself. A thought for another day . . .

"We should add some blueberries to the batter," I suggest, hoping that'll add yet another food she likes.

She pouts and shakes her head.

"How about cinnamon?"

She twists her lips, unconvinced.

I take out the muffin baking pan and show it to her. "We've got twelve slots to fill. What if we do a couple blueberry, a few vanilla, two cinnamon . . ." I trail off, hoping she'll chime in.

"Do you think Amewine wants chocowate chiz muffins?" Cora asks, smearing more batter on her cheek.

"I think she'll absolutely love them," I assure her, grabbing the chocolate chips from the pantry.

Just then, the front door opens and closes with a soft thud, and Jude strolls into the penthouse. His hair is tousled, and his clothes from the night before are slightly rumpled. If Cora weren't here, I would remind him that he's too old to be having one-night stands.

"Seems like someone had an eventful evening," I mock.

Cora plants her hands on her hips, leaving floury handprints on her pajamas. "Unca Jude missed bedtime. You in big twouble," she declares.

Jude chuckles, ruffling her hair as he passes by to prepare some coffee. "I might get away with it for today," he says, winking at her. "I was taking care of my little sisters."

"Indie and Lydie?" Cora asks, nose scrunched. "They not little."

"Lyric," I correct her while Jude says, "And Harper too."

Hearing Harper's name, I pause with the spoon that I'm holding mid-air. I turn toward Jude, my brows knitting together in worry. "Is she okay?"

Jude responds with a casual shrug. "She'll get there," he says, a subtle hint of fatigue in his tone.

He probably didn't sleep. I don't understand why . . .Then, I recall why Lyric came to Seattle. Harp. I feel like an asshole for letting my sister down. "Why didn't you call if she needed me?" I ask sharply.

"Because she has five other siblings to look after her." Jude just gives me a look. "Your family's gotta be the priority now." His gaze darts briefly toward Cora. "Harp gets it, that they're important. And, eventually, she'll even wanna meet them, connect with Ame again too."

But not now? My worry spikes, but before I can ask any more questions, Cora tugs his shirt insistently. "Unca Jude. You gonna help izing the muffins?"

"Hate to break it to ya squirt, but muffins don't get icing usually. That's more of a cupcake thing." At her crestfallen look, he tweaks her nose playfully. "But how about if I whip up some delicious strawberry smoothies while we wait for those muffins?"

I explain quickly what smoothies are, adding, "They're kind of like milkshakes." Cora immediately perks up. "Yes, pwease."

She forgets all about the muffins. I finish them and set them in the oven. As Jude gathers smoothie ingredients, Cora "helping" enthusiastically, my phone suddenly buzzes. Glancing at the screen, I see the hospital number and my gut seizes.

I signal to Jude who nods that he'll keep an eye on my girl. I quickly step toward the library to take the call. "Dr. Decker speaking."

The person on the other line tells me Isadora's condition has changed. The intracranial swelling has resolved, and they are lightening her sedation. It's a waiting game now. She might awaken potentially in only a few hours, possibly days. The unspoken third possibility hangs heavily in the air—she might not wake up at all.

"Thank you for calling. I'll let my wife know. Please update me immediately if there are any changes to her condition," I request before ending the call.

Reaching my bedroom, I hear the shower running. Hesitating at the door, I knock softly. "Ameline, it's me. I need to talk to you. It's important."

The sound of the water stops, and after a moment, Ameline's voice, slightly muffled, responds, "I'll be out in a minute."

I lean against the wall, my mind racing. Isadora's awakening could change everything. Ame might leave with the kids and leave me behind, or . . . what if she miraculously wakes up perfectly fine and takes them away from us?

That might break Ame's heart. Could they be able to fix their relationship? Stop searching for the worst-case scenarios and just wait patiently, I order myself.

Ameline emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, a towel wrapped around her. She scans my face with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"The swelling has subsided, and they're gradually bringing Izzy out of the coma," I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

A crease forms between her brows, confusion and tentative relief warring across her lovely features. "Will she wake up today?"

"Could be hours, maybe days," I hedge, not wanting her to spiral imagining worst-case scenarios too.

Ame looks at me skeptically. "This is where you tell me that she might not wake up or could've lost all her faculties," she insists, then points toward the place where she has the scar. "I had brain surgery. I know what can happen if a part of your gray matter suffers an injury."

I should know better than to sugarcoat with this woman. "You're right, there are infinite possibilities. But we can't make assumptions yet, baby," I say, aiming for a positive outcome.

"Yet, it's a possibility," she presses, her expression tense.

"Everything is possible, yes," I admit, my heart heavy. "We can't foresee exactly how her recovery will unfold."

She nods, some tension easing from her face. After a weighty moment, she adds, "Fitz called earlier. He said the temporary guardianship for the little ones is set up." She explains to me how it works.

We don't get to be parents but we're allowed to register them for school, make medical decisions and . . . it's like fostering them.

I remember how it was when my parents fostered Lyndon. He was just a baby. There were a lot of restrictions and what we could do, like going on vacation, or . . . well, I can't remember specifics. It's been so long. Though one day he became ours. A Decker. That could happen here too, right?

Am I a bad person for wanting to keep Cora and Caleb, calling them mine?

Before I can think more, Ame adds, "If anything changes, we have to let him know."

"What kind of changes?"

She shrugs. "If she never wakes up, dies, or just leaves the hospital declaring herself healthy."

The last one is a big stretch, but I nod. "The doctors will call us with any updates. But if you'd like, we can visit the hospital to check on her ourselves."

She shakes her head. "No. We'll wait for the call, and in the meantime, we can spend the day with the kids. You mentioned to Caleb that we would be going to the park."

"What if we buy a bicycle for Cora?" I suggest.

"Am I an awful person for wanting to keep them with me? Look at Cora, she's been neglected for years. I can't stomach thinking Izzy will keep doing the same to them," she admits and can't hide the guilt in her face.

"Even if they leave eventually, we'll still play a role in their lives. We'll make sure she's a good mother to them," I reassure her, my hand finding hers. I lift our hands and brush a kiss over her knuckles. "However, this goes, we'll protect them and won't lose them."

"We'll be okay," she states. "All of us."

I don't understand if she's talking about the four of us or her and the children. But I choose not to push her to decide my fate. Not today.

Her phone rings and she says, "I need to dress." I walk toward the nightstand and read the name Gideon.

"Who the fuck is Gideon?" I ask out loud.

She rolls her eyes as if I'm being ridiculous.

"You can tell me to fuck off, Ame. However, I think it's fair that you tell me the truth," I state, clearing my throat. "Is this why . . ." I don't know how to finish the question. "Are you two together?"

Ameline shakes her head. "No. He's my best friend and roommate."

"Friends with benefits?" I push a little further.

"Kind of. We have a symbiotic relationship, but the benefits aren't sexual," she emphasizes the last word. "He can't live alone, but refuses to hire a nurse or go back to his family. And I need someone to pay for utilities and a few expenses."

"And you couldn't tell me that before because . . .?" I trail off hoping she'll complete the sentence.

"I didn't see the point then, Gabe," she answers. "I was leaving and the less we shared the better. But now . . . A lot has changed in the past week. You finally opened up, and we know why things imploded between us. I'm an open book now. Are you?"

"Of course I am," I reassure her. "So you and he weren't together at all or anyone?"

She shakes her head. "Were you with anyone while we were broken up?"

I show her the ring as if telling her, ‘I'm taken, baby.' And also grin because she's saying that in the past tense. "Does this mean we're back together?"

"It's a work in progress," she admits. "I think we should be doing a little more groveling, don't you think?"

"You'll be groveling too."

She laughs, shaking her head and before she can answer, Cora calls us, "Bweafast is wedy."

"I need to dress, but we can talk about this later," she says, passing me and heading outside the room.

"Umm, you don't have clothes on."

"My clothes are in the guest room, where I'm heading to."

"We should move them here," I propose, but then say, "Actually, we should buy a new place. Move there with the kids and maybe have a couple more."

Her eyes open wide. "You're moving too fast, Decker."

"Fine, we'll find a pace that's comfortable for us. In the meantime get dressed. Cora and I made muffins for breakfast—yours has chocolate chips."

She gives me a quick peck on the lips and disappears, leaving me hopeful. Maybe last night wasn't just about grief and it was the beginning of finding our way back to us.