Six weeks later, two little blue lines stared back at me from a pregnancy test, and I knew I’d become a monster.
Your daughter’s name is Kayla. Her birthday is February 12, 2021. She loves peaches and yogurt, hates carrots, and drinks milk like it’s her job. Her favorite toy is a stuffed elephant my sister bought her. She poops like a champ and is an okay sleeper. Also, I’m pretty sure she’s a genius, but there’s a small chance I’m biased.
She doesn’t have a mother.
Not one who’s living. But when she was living, Kayla’s mother loved her more than she’d ever imagined loving anyone.
My parents want to raise her, but I’ve already done enough terrible things. Right now, as you read this, you might be thinking that giving Kayla to you is another of those awful things. It’s not.
Because she’s incredible.
And you are her father.
The best thing I’ve ever had came out of the worst thing I’ve ever done. How is that even possible? One of the universe’s cruel ironies, I suppose.
I found you through social media. How else, right? Your family seems fun and messy; wonderful. I’ve read every interview Michaela Hudson did since she began dating your brother. The way she spoke about you and your family set my heart and mind at ease. I know Kayla will be loved.
I’m not going to beg you to love her because I know you will. It’s impossible not to. And I’m not going to ask you to take good care of her because I know you will do that, too. You might not remember me, but I’ve followed you on social media since we met, and while you might have a healthy appetite for fun, I also see a deep love for your family. It’s how I knew Kayla belonged with you.
There is one thing I ask of you, though I have no right. My hope is with time you’ll soften and be willing to grant me this one wish. I’m shamelessly using the fact that I’m dying to get my way. If it’s for Kayla’s benefit, there is no depth I won’t stoop to.
Please, someday, let her know her mother loved her. Still loves her from wherever she ends up in the afterlife. Please let her know that while she was created by a deceitful mistake her mother made, she never once considered Kayla a mistake.
She was the joy of my life, and I am grateful for every second I got to spend with her.
I owe you the biggest apology one can ever bestow, but I find it hard to write the words. If I apologize for that night, I’m apologizing for Kayla, and one day you will understand why I cannot do that. It’ll hit you when you least expect it. This surge of love so strong, it’s like a drug.
I am sorry for the circumstances, though. For the lies. For the shock. For the tough months ahead.
For my death.
But I’m not sorry for Kayla.
I can promise she will become the joy of your life. Just wait and see.
A beautiful rainbow after a raging storm.
Thank you for filling the final months of my life with love so pure and precious, I will carry it with me into eternity.
All my love,
Mary Anne
CHAPTER THREE
HANNAH GAPED AT her parents with her jaw swinging. She blinked, then forced her mouth closed to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t possibly have heard you correctly. Say that again.”
Silent tears coasted down her mother’s distraught face. Ever since Mary Anne passed away two months ago, seeing her mother makeup free, red-eyed, and dabbing her face with a tissue had become the norm. Not long ago, Hannah couldn’t have said what her mother looked like without freshly pressed clothes, makeup, or with her gray roots peeking out. Now, it was her daily uniform.
To say she wasn’t coping well was the same as saying rain was wet.
“We need you to do this for us, Pickle,” her father said in a defeated tone, using the dreaded childhood nickname. Apparently, she’d gone through a phase around two where she’d refused to eat anything other than pickles. A stage that haunted her to this day.
Her dad seemed to have aged ten years in the past six months. Where a thick head of silvery hair used to live, a bald spot shone in the light. He’d lost weight as well. Both her parents had. Getting them to choke down a full meal had been damn near impossible since Mary Anne died.
They’d known it was coming. All of them had, for months. But while Hannah had been doing everything she could to mentally prepare herself for the loss while soaking up as many new memories of her sister and niece as possible, her parents had gone the route of deep denial.