Summers always seemed to hold a whirlwind of endless possibilities that Owen and I were never fully prepared for. It was in August during an inexpensive trip to the coast on Martha's Vineyard that Owen asked me to be his wife and I accepted immediately. We decided it would just be us and Alexandrine and we decided to do it there. The engagement ring would act doubly as my wedding ring, and we managed to find a beautiful platinum ring for Owen in a seaside antique shop. We too managed to find a decent justice of the peace—a lovely woman named Cynthia Carrow—who married us right on the beach. Cynthia's sister, Carol, was our witness and held Alexandrine during the whole of the ceremony, as our little girl took to her rather quickly.

I informed our small group of friends and associates upon our return to TriBeCa that I was now Leia Torrance, and wanted each and every little thing in my life to reflect that. I knew that everyone at school would eventually get word to Chelsea somehow, who would likely run to our parents soon thereafter. It didn't matter to me; I'd married the man I loved, we'd had a child together, and I was on the fast-track to figuring out what I wanted my degree to be. I knew full well that nothing would be easy, but I was fully prepared for the possibilities that I knew would lie ahead of Owen, Alexandrine, and I.

September dawned and I realized I would depend upon Cosmo for longer days, as I was due to start my sophomore year of college on the last Monday of that month. It would also come with a pay raise to thirty dollars an hour, which I was fully prepared to pay; given that we did not have to pay rent on the penthouse, it certainly made things easier. The only thing I was looking forward to was the notion that I would obtain my first college degree come June. Owen had gotten his just after Alexandrine's birth, and we all knew that the countdown to him getting his bachelor's degree was in full-swing.

Alexandrine's first Halloween was a rousing success; at four months old, she got the award for cutest baby—at least, in our book. We painted her nose black, and painted on a trio of whiskers on each side. Then, we found some black, fuzzy kitty ears in her size, and managed to find a black cat suit for babies as well. Carrying her around the neighborhood, we felt delighted to be a part of a normal family holiday tradition. As November dawned, we took Alexandrine to her five-month check-up; or, rather, I did with Cosmo, as Owen had a test for that day, while I had the day off.

Cosmo and I sat in the sterile environment of the waiting room, Cosmo drooling over the latest edition of Men's Health while I kept a tight hold on Alexandrine. He was gazing at Channing Tatum, who was marketing the seventeenth Magic Mike film, and still looked good, despite his age. Apparently, he finds out he has an illegitimate son in the latest epic, called Michael Lane, Jr., who wanted to break into his father's world of stripping. and how Channing's character was morally against that. I guessed hypocritical behavior truly existed all over the map, I saw that now...

"You couldn't be more obvious right now," I say, traces of laughter licking at my tone as I tried not to lose it completely.

"Hmmm?" Cosmo asked, turning to look at me.

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure some people in this room will think that I'm an idiot for not realizing that my husband is gay," I point out.

Cosmo stifles a laugh at my comment. "Sweetie, come on. I've got platinum-blonde highlights with my too-dark-for-words brown hair, a French manicure, and I'm wearing open-toed sandals in November. If that doesn't scream flaming, I don't know what does." He leans closer to me. "However, if I was a man, I'd snatch you right up, no question."

"Hardy har-har," I grumble back. "I have permanent dark circles under my eyes from tending to this one," I say, indicating Alexandrine, "as well as attempting to remember rudimentary English whilst writing papers for school. My hair is always a mess because I can't manage to find a deep conditioner marked, 'New Mother', and—to top it all off—I'm wearing a bra designed for retirement home-aged women in the 1950s because of its thickness and ability to keep my breasts from leaking uncontrollably."

"All the more reason," Cosmo replies. "You're a real woman—and the honesty is just a delicious garnish."

I roll my eyes. "Not many people would agree with you on that one," I reply as the door leading back to the offices opens.

A nurse stands on the threshold, looking around for a moment. "Mrs. Torrance and Alexandrina?" she asks, reading from her clipboard.

I get to my feet, Cosmo following. "That's us," I reply.

"You must be Cosmo, the manny," the nurse, whose name tag reads Minnie, says with a quick, kind smile. "Come on back, all of you."

I turn to Cosmo and raise my eyebrows before we walk back past many offices and exam rooms and finally we reach room 110. We are led inside by Minnie, who tells me to sit while she briefly examines Alexandrine. She takes her temperature, blood pressure, and makes her laugh before nodding to herself and taking down some quick notes, which will go into Alexandrine's permanent file.

"Well, I'll let Dr. Chang look over these and he should be back within ten minutes," she informs us with a quick smile before leaving.

"Okay, what's going on here?" I ask. "Have you been frequenting the hospital outside of taking Alexandrine here once in September?"

Cosmo sighs. "No, it's... More than that," he admits.

"Uh-huh," I reply, unconvinced. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Well..." Cosmo begins, but the door opens.

"So lovely to see you all again," said her pediatrician, Dr. Ethan Chang, as he stepped into the room, his black silky hair pulled back into a ponytail, and his white lab coat pristine.

"That wasn't ten minutes," Cosmo mutters.

"How is Alexandrine?" Dr. Chang asks, and Alexandrine immediately looks at ease in his presence.

"She's fine, thank you," I reply, handing her over.

Dr. Chang looked over her, all the while continuing to peek up at Cosmo. "Good to see you again, Cosmo," he said softly.

Cosmo blushed. "You, too," he replied.

"She's a bit overdue for her four-month vaccinations," Dr. Chang observed a moment later, "but she should be fine if we take care of those today."

"Do you need me to be with her?" I ask, attempting to get up.

He shakes his head. "We generally ask that parents remain here in the room for sterilization purposes," Dr. Chang replies. "Don't worry—it's only four shots and my nurses are very quick. We should be back in less than five minutes."

I bite my lip. "Okay," I say as Alexandrine is whisked away from me. Almost immediately after the door swings shut behind me, I turn back to Cosmo, in full-on interrogation mode. "Okay, what's going on?" I ask him. "You and Dr. Chang are usually so chummy. Today, you were all awkward..."

Cosmo sighs. "Remember I told you that I started seeing someone while you and Owen were off at Martha's Vineyard?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah, of course I remember. It was in between the texts of devastation when you found out we got married without you."

"I've known Dr. Chang for a while," he replies. "We met at this club last spring and we hit it off. We initially knew each other through mutual friends but started hanging out solo. Things changed in August after you left for Martha's Vineyard with Owen and Alexandrine..."

"Did they now?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. "How's that?"

Cosmo ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah...they began to heat up, so to speak," he replied. "It heated up originally when we kissed..."

"Mmm!" I cried, clapping my hands. "That's exciting!"

"Oh, please, you are too cute," Cosmo says, trying not to laugh. "You're eighteen years old, so of course you think that's funny..."

"Nineteen in a few weeks," I remind him patiently, leaning forward and putting my head into my hands. "God, I seriously hope that Owen doesn't try to put some big thing together..."

"Why?" Cosmo laughs. "I could make some calls—get you a DJ, and get us some high-quality food..."

I shake my head. "No, it's fine," I assure him.

"But why not?"

"Well, for one thing, the one family we've got is mine..." I lift up my head then and peer at him. "Did Owen explain our situation?"

"Not in so many words," Cosmo replies, "but he did happen to mention how your relationship was initially seen as controversial."

"Well, I suppose you should know the full extent of it," I reply. "I mean...I've told you what my parents do..."

"Yeah, your dad's the Manhattan District Attorney and your mom is Captain of Manhattan SVU," Cosmo replies.

"Yeah, she worked hard for that promotion and got it almost a year ago," I reply softly. "Since they were in those jobs, they were really compassionate with kids and other young people who needed help...including me."

"Including you?" Cosmo asks. "I don't understand."

"I was adopted by them when I was five," I reply. "My biological mother was my father's younger half-sister. She died when I was little," I say softly, automatically bringing one of my legs to my chest. "My bio mom was one of the best dentists New York had ever seen. She was a lesbian, and she wanted a child so badly—she was really mature for her age, so she got inseminated when she was in her early twenties. She had me, and she was on the top of her game—made her first billion while I was still in utero, and that's when the practice really took off..."

"What happened to her?" Cosmo asked.

"Uh, when Mom and Dad were on their honeymoon—long cruise type thing with a tour of Europe at the end of it—they got word that my... That Henrietta was hit by a car and killed. It was ruled a manslaughter—the guy was high as a kite on heroin and was mixing it with a cocktail of prescription drugs and alcohol. Mom and Dad got him a hard decade in Rikers, but I hardly remember any of it."

"That's a good thing, right?" Cosmo asks.

I nod. "Of course—I wouldn't want to remember any of it," I tell him. "I just moved in with them right away to the penthouse we live in now—then we moved to their big house shortly thereafter. They adopted me within a year, and then they had my little sister, Felicity. Then my mom had a one-night stand with this other guy in her unit—he's actually her second-in-command now—and they had a son together, my brother, Fin. And then there's my youngest sibling, Hunter, named after my grandfather—my last grandparent."

"Got a good relationship with him?"

I nod. "Sure, I guess. I'm the only grandchild that's doubly not related to him—my mom was adopted into her family, too. Except she was in the system for a bit, and I never had to go through any of that," I say softly. "But when I was in my junior year of high school, I was dating my first serious boyfriend, Ulysses..."

"Wait, hold up," Cosmo says. "You're kidding me now, right?"

I shake my head. "Arts school," I reply as a means of an explanation. "Anyhow, it was after a football game at our school one night that Ulysses got really...handsy. I remember feeling very ill at ease, especially when he pretty much demanded that he and I have sex under the bleachers to make him feel better due to the loss of the game—he always took it personally..."

"Bastard," Cosmo said immediately. "What'd you do?"

"Told him 'no', but that didn't do any good," I reply. "Luckily, Owen was still there and came to my rescue," I tell him. "Then, we got in my car—his twin sister, Chelsea, was already home—and tended to him. And then..."

"You had sex?" Cosmo guesses.

I nod. "Yeah. After that, we were inseparable—except in mixed company, that is. I mean, that was until Chelsea found out..."

"She blackmailed you?"

I nod again. "She did—several hundred dollars' worth, too," I say. "Deceitful bitch—I'll never get over that one. What most people don't understand is the fact that it wasn't about the money—it was never about the money."

"What was it about?"

I sigh. "My parents were fostering her and offered to adopt both her and Owen," I tell him point blank. "But Owen and I were in love so he made up some lame excuse about not wanting to be adopted—friends in high places prevented that line of questioning in the courtroom when Chelsea was adopted. But Chelsea was indeed adopted without a hitch, and then she found out all about me and Owen sneaking around. She then successfully became my mother's favorite child all because of her sob stories—and I was sympathetic, for a while—but when I found out I was pregnant, I vowed to get out of there." I chuckle bitterly, leaning up against the wall. "I know full well that if any of my children ever resorted to blackmail against another, I'd hope to god they had a good reason for it, or else I'd throw them out. Luckily, they'd be over a certain age and then I wouldn't be fined for it or something..."

"And that's why you don't want Chelsea around Alexandrine?"

I nod at him. "Yeah, those are a couple of reasons why," I reply as Dr. Chang returns to the room with Alexandrine. "My baby," I say, immediately reaching out for her and feeling complete once she's handed back to me. "Is she all right? Did she behave herself?" I ask, soothing her and kissing her forehead.

Dr. Chang nods. "Yes, Alexandrine is very healthy—we got her weight as well and she's fifteen pounds. She's absolutely perfect."

"Is she all set to go?" I ask Dr. Chang.

"Yes," Dr. Chang tells me patiently, and shows me a piece of paper. "Is this insurance information we have for you still correct?"

Quickly, I look it over. "Yes, that's correct," I reply.

"Great," Dr. Chang says. "We'll give them a phone call with what went on at the appointment today, and we'll be in touch later this week or early next week on the deductible."

"Great," I say, wrapping Alexandrine in her jacket and getting to my feet. "I'm just going to change her real quick and I'll meet you by the main entrance for the walk back to the penthouse, okay, Cosmo?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure," Cosmo says, looking at Dr. Chang, totally absorbed.

"Should be fine," Dr. Chang tells me, his eyes locked on Cosmo.

"Great," I say again, walking out of the room. "You know, Alexandrine," I say softly to her as I make my way down the hall and towards the waiting room, "it looks like Uncle Cosmo has a thing for Dr. Chang. But we love Uncle Cosmo, and we like Dr. Chang very much, and if something develops between them, we're going to be very happy for them," I tell her quietly as I step out into the living room and towards the ladies' room.

. . .

"It's just that we hardly ever see you anymore," my mother said through the phone, and I found myself growing more and more annoyed by her constant pestering of me these last few years. "Come on. I mean, you just got your bachelor's degree and Owen's in his second year of his residency at the hospital. And besides, your little Alexandrine is getting older and older every day..."

"She's three now, thanks for asking," I say, defensiveness riddling my tone as I knew I'd go up to bat whenever for my little girl.

"I know that, love. It's just that your father and I haven't seen you since Cosmo and Ethan tied the knot—and that was six months ago."

"I know, but it's still easy, given that he still works for us," I reply. "He and Ethan live over in Chelsea. Although it's becoming difficult because Cosmo's busy getting a master's in interior design..."

"It's just that you'll be twenty-one in five months and I'm tired of missing all of these goals with you, sweetheart..."

"Mom, you know the whole topic with you about me going home for a visit is complicated," I tell her softly.

"Owen's not talking you out of it, is he?"

"Mom, god... No," I say, fighting to keep my voice in check as I push myself away from looking over my resume. Now that I'd graduated, I needed to decide if I wanted to keep acting, or actually do something with my new law degree... On the one hand, I'd never considered acting a job or a chore, and it would be a lot of fun, although there were no guarantees when it came to that line of work. And then there was the law, where I could be in my father's shadow for years to come, and then...

"All right, I was just making sure," she replies. "How is Owen?"

"He's great—he's been at the hospital for almost a year and a half and he absolutely adores it," I assure her. "The doctors love him and he thinks it'd be a good fit for him when he ultimately gets to be one of them..."

"Has he decided what kind of doctor he wants to be yet?"

"Yeah, he decided his on his one-year anniversary," I reply. "He wants to be a children's oncologist."

"And Alexandrine?" my mother asks, hope hidden at the back of her tone. "How is she doing?"

"She's in preschool fifteen hours a week," I reply. "Then Cosmo picks her up after he's done with his classes and hangs out with her until six. Then I have her for a couple of hours and then give her dinner, give her a bath, and put her to bed. We have a very involved schedule."

"And you?" she asks me. "What have you been up to since your graduation? How was it?" she wants to know.

I purse my lips, knowing she would never let go of the notion that I hadn't invited her to my graduation. When it came to Chelsea, she'd gotten her degree a year before I had, and now was in design school for another three years on top of that, yet it was better to know that I wouldn't be seeing her regularly any time soon. "I am just trying to keep myself in check," I tell her, pushing the sarcasm from my tone as I roll my shoulders. "I'm constantly updating my two resumes—my acting one and my law one. I just can't decide what to do..."

"Which one do you love the most?"

"That's not the right question I should be considering," I reply steadily. "I've got Alexandrine to think about now. I know it would kill Dad if I didn't become a lawyer, especially because I know he's not my biggest fan right now, and then he'd get even more angry..."

"Don't say that, sweetheart," my mother says quickly. "He just wants you to be happy—I promise."

"Yeah, well, thankfully it's not up to him," I mutter. "How is Felicity?" I ask her conversationally.

"Felicity is sixteen now," my mother says, sighing a little. "We took her to get her first car last weekend to celebrate the school year ending... She's so excited to arrive for junior year with a new vehicle..."

"And the boys?" I ask.

"Fin and Hunter? Thirteen and ten," she replies breezily.

"All ready for the eighth and fifth grade?" I ask her.

She nods. "Of course," she replies.

"That's nice," I tell her.

"Listen, sweetheart, I just want you to know that your father and I don't condone what Chelsea put you through."

"Did you nullify her adoption then?" I ask, my voice a bit more cutting than I'd originally intended it to be.

"No," my mother says tensely after a moment. "In my line of work, we may just throw people in jail at the end of the day, but that's not how I want my family to work."

I get to my feet. "Oh, I see," I say. "I guess that means that solely because of her troubled background, Chelsea is automatically allowed to do whatever she wants, is that it?" I demand.

"I didn't call you to argue, sweetheart..."

"Then why did you call me at all?!" I demand, my voice breaking. "Did you call because you wanted me to grovel and beg forgiveness? Because I won't! I have no regrets whatsoever about my decision making, Mother! None!"

"I see," she says, never raising her voice. "Well, until or unless you want to talk about making peace with Chelsea, then I have nothing more to say to you, Leia Torrance."

"Point taken," I say, promptly hanging up on her.

. . .

I took up drinking the moment my mother and I cut ties that day. For exactly eight weeks, I littered the penthouse with varying bottles, which I hid successfully from Owen, for a while. Due to my acting training, I magnificently perfected a way not to sound drunk at all, and was able to mask the smell of the alcohol by varying perfumes or by having the penthouse cleaned. It was when Owen discovered all the bottles in the middle of August in some storage space in one of the spare rooms that my husband demanded to know what was going on. In all, he found over two hundred bottles of varying beer and wine that I'd managed to buy—or had people buy for me before my latest birthday.

The conscientious decision to go to rehab wasn't my own, but Owen's—although I did get on board with it when he told me to do it for Alexandrine. However, I soon came to the realization that I had to complete the treatment program for myself. I discussed varying issues in my therapy sessions, including one that I'd never even attempted to consider before: Who my birth father was. All I knew was the name of the clinic my mother had used—somewhere on the Upper East Side—and that, now that I was twenty-one, I was within my rights to contact him.

The treatment program lasted thirty days, and I felt I got a lot accomplished as September dawned in New York. Stepping out of there, I took a cab across town, with thirty-one days sober underneath my belt, with a vow I'd made never to drink again, which I had the confidence to keep. I knew what I wanted out of life, and not only had I made the decision to find my birth father, but I'd also decided what I wanted to do with my degrees.

Cosmo had considerately offered to take Alexandrine that evening, after I'd spent a lengthy afternoon with her. Ethan was currently at some medical conference in Chicago and so I knew Cosmo would be glad for the company my three-year-old daughter brought him. After Cosmo took Alexandrine back to his luxury apartment in Chelsea that he shared with Ethan, I walked down the street to the grocery store and bought a few things to cook a wonderful meal for myself and for Owen. My parents had gotten us a few presents over the years—especially after they'd found out we'd gotten married without them—and one thing I'd been dying to use was our pasta maker.

I could make my own sauce—Mom had taught me that much—and we'd learned to use specific cooking utensils and machines whilst in rehab. I bought everything I needed to make spaghetti and meatballs, as well as a loaf of fresh garlic bread. I also bought some marionberry sorbet that Owen and I loved to finish the meal off, and a bag of salad. Returning to the penthouse, a text from Owen said that he'd be home at six-thirty, so I had plenty of time. It was just after two, so I decided to take a quick nap before starting dinner. Awakening by four, I went into the kitchen and whipped up dinner, before setting the cooked pasta aside, and the sauce to simmer while I ran upstairs to take a shower.

There was a vase of freshly-cut calla lilies upon the dining room table, and their smell hit my nose when I entered the vicinity again. I tied my apron around my little black dress, careful not to stumble around the kitchen in my scarlet heels. As I heard the key turn in the lock, I'd just finished preparing the table; the pasta and meatballs were in a fine ceramic bowl; the bread was sliced a couple of times and on a wood plank with a knife; the salad was in an additional bowl; and plates with napkins and silverware were placed accordingly, just as I was lighting the candles and dimming the lights.

Owen walked in, his eyebrows raised, taking in the scent of his dinner. "Leia?" he asked, and I turned around, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Owen," I say, feeling happy for the first time in a month—well, with the exception of seeing Alexandrine earlier that day.

"Where's Alexandrine?" he asked, setting his satchel down.

"Cosmo has her for the night," I reply, stepping forward. "Ethan's at this medical conference in Chicago—he was glad for the company."

Owen reaches out and pulls me to him, and I feel a slight squeal escaping my body as I feel him lengthwise against me. "So, we're alone?"

"Yes," I reply, my heart in my throat.

He nods. "Good," he replies, leaning down to kiss me.

"I won't have my dinner going to waist, Mr. Torrance," I say, pulling out of his embrace and pulling him towards the head of the table. "You'll just have to eat dinner first...then some sorbet...and then some dessert..."

"Promise?" he asks, sitting begrudgingly down at the table, his roving hands never leaving my hips.

"Promise," I assure him, sitting across from him. "We learned how to make pasta at the...place," I say, forcing a smile. "Have you ever had it this way before? I looked up a few tutorials on YouTube..."

"Never," Owen tells me, eagerness appearing in his eyes when he catches sight of the meatballs.

"Go ahead—have some," I say, nodding at the bowl. Once we've both finished serving ourselves, I let a comfortable silence envelope the room, the only sound of our forks scraping against our plates or the occasional sip of a drink. "So, listen, I need to talk to you about a few things..."

"Yeah?" Owen asks, taking another bite before looking up. "Like what?"

I sigh. "It's kind of serious..."

"Do you want to break up?" he asks.

"No!" I cry out, suddenly, too quickly. "Why? Did you meet another resident to replace me?"

Owen laughs. "Never," he assures me, reaching across the table and taking my hand firmly. "Now, tell me what's on your mind."

I sigh a second time. "Well, I did a lot of thinking while in...rehab," I say, forcing myself to say the word out loud. "And I made a decision."

"Do you want to have another baby?" he asks.

"I...um... Eventually, we can discuss that," I say quietly. "But we're both still really young... I'd rather wait until you've been a doctor a few years and I'm working, too, before we decide that..."

Owen nods. "I agree," he replies.

I smile at him. "Good. So, I want to know how you would feel about me potentially seeking out my birth father."

"Your mom...Henrietta... She was inseminated, right?"

I nod. "That's right."

"How would that work? You finding him?"

"Well, I have the name of the agency that hooked her up with the sperm, so to speak, and I'd give them a call," I reply. "I'd ask for contact information on the sample number, which I have, and then I would wait and see if Number 01487 wants to have any contact with me."

"Do you hope he does?"

"Of course," I reply. "My therapist informed me that such a resolution would prove to be beneficial towards my treatment."

"I think it's great," Owen says, smiling across the table at me. "I just don't want you to be disappointed, if for some reason he doesn't want to talk to you. But I am going to be here for you every step of the way."

"Thank you," I reply.

"And the other decision?" he asks.

I sigh. "Well, I've decided to take the bar exam," I reply. "I mean, I know that acting was a fun world to be a part of and everything, but I know that Alexandrine absolutely needs to come first. If I become a lawyer, then I can provide a good amount of stability, along with your eventual salary. So, if I manage to pass the bar, then we'll be moving on up."

Owen smiles at me. "And you're sure this is what you want?"

I shake my head. "I'm not sure of anything anymore," I confess.

. . .

I studied endlessly for the next two weeks, as I would have to wait for the results in May instead of November if I waited much longer to take it. Two and a half weeks later, after studying my ass off, I was officially ready. I went to the testing center for my first day of testing. I was in the exam room, taking the two-hundred question exam, for over two hours, but finally finished the dreaded piece of paperwork before making sure my name was spelled correctly. I handed it in and got the hell out of there. The second day, I wrote an essay about the argument about whether or not the practice of capital punishment should be returned to the State of New York before scrawling down my final thoughts.

And then there was nothing to do but to wait. In the meantime, Owen was still doing well in his residency program and was growing to love it more and more every single day. We took Alexandrine out trick-or-treating and, now that she was walking and talking, she was a walking and talking princess. She enjoyed watching the other children running around, but Owen and I were able to tell her to stay with us at all times. She was a very good girl, and only some of the time did she get out of hand, but was always quite apologetic afterwards.

November began and I began counting down the days until my twenty-first birthday, and crossed my fingers that my bar exam results would come through as promptly as possible. I took Alexandrine to the park on my twenty-first birthday—thankfully she was off from preschool that day—and we got onto the swings together, me keeping a good grip on her. I pressed my cheek to hers, feeling utterly at peace with the world and how things were going.

"Do you know what day it is today?" I asked her softly.

"No," she replied, turning to look up at me. "What day?"

I smile down at her. "Today is Mommy's birthday," I tell her. "Today, Mommy is twenty-one-years-old."

"What do you want for your birthday, Mommy? A doggy?"

I laugh at her. "Mommy and Daddy have discussed getting a doggy, but we both know you want one, huh, Sandrine?"

She nods. "Yes. I want a doggy."

"Well, we'll discuss it further," I reply. "You see, sweetheart, doggies are a lot of responsibility. You know that, don't you?"

She nods. "Yes, Mommy. I know."

"Sandrine!" shrieks a child's voice, and we look up.

"Mommy, Mommy, it's Karissa and her mommy!" Alexandrine cries.

I smile at Karissa's mother, Katherine, who waves us over. I lift up Alexandrine before setting her on the ground, where she knows to wait. I take her by the hand and walk over to them and smile. "Good to see you," I say.

"Likewise," Katherine says, and we hug. "How are you doing?" she asks with an understanding look—she was the only mother at Alexandrine's preschool who knew about my stint in rehab.

"Fine, thanks—much better," I assure her. "Four months today."

"Congratulations," Katherine says.

"Mommy, may I go and play with Karissa, please?" Alexandrine asks me politely when appropriate.

I nod. "Of course, darling," I reply. "Just remember to be careful and make sure you're where I or Miss Katherine can see you."

"Yes, Mommy!" Alexandrine calls, already running to the play structure with Karissa in her wake.

"Come on, let's sit," Katherine says, and we make our way over towards a bench and sit down, facing the play structure. "How's Owen enjoying the residency at the hospital?" she asks.

"He's loving it," I reply. "He's popular with everyone, and he's enjoying the work and learning so much," I reply. "He'll be over halfway done come January. We're all very proud."

"And you? You're well?"

I smile. "Actually, in all honesty, it's good to be here—it's so nice to breathe. I find that, as a mom, I forget how to do that sometimes."

Katherine laughs. "I hear you," she replies. "When I had Alyssa, I was sixteen-years-old, and I had no idea what I was going to do."

"You'll think I'm impertinent, but I always thought..."

"You thought that Alyssa was adopted?" Katherine asks, smiling. "No need to beat yourself up—when I was younger, my mom tried to raise her for me, but Alyssa found out pretty quickly that I was her mother."

"How did you deal with it?" I ask her.

"Well, my husband was my boyfriend at the time, and you know as well as I do how successful he is," she replies. "Arthur West came from old money, and for some crazy reason, he picked me. He was eighteen, but I was seventeen just a few days after Alyssa was born, so thankfully the law never caught up to us. I managed to get emancipated after living under my mother's thumb for six months and Arthur and I got married that same day. His family welcomed me with open arms —they always wanted a large family but couldn't have another child after Arthur for some reason. Then when Arthur was twenty-one, his dad had a heart attack, and Arthur took over his phone company. And here we are today..."

"How old is Alyssa now?" I ask her.

"She's ten," Katherine replies. "Why?"

"Owen brought up having another baby the day I got back from rehab," I reply. "It was bad timing, sure, but I was sending him mixed messages about telling him things I figured out while there..."

"May I ask what?" Katherine asks me.

I nod. "Oh, of course. I want to figure out who my birth father is, for one thing. My biological mother was a billionaire by the time she was in her early twenties, and she was a lesbian, so she wanted a child to fill a void in her life, I guess. And there I was, a child she'd created with science..."

"Did child services take you away for a homophobic reason?" Katherine asks, a decent amount of concern in her voice.

"No," I reply. "My mother died when I was five. She was hit by a car and she was killed instantly. I was at school when it happened. My parents were on their honeymoon at the time—my adopted father was my mother's older half-brother. I later found out that I had another uncle, but he was single and didn't want a family, so there you go."

"Talk to your parents much?" Katherine asks.

I shake my head. "Not so much now. They wanted to adopt a pair of fraternal twins when I was in high school, and that was the beginning of the end."

"How so?"

"Well, because Owen was the boy twin," I reply.

Katherine raises her eyebrows. "Oh. I see."

I nod. "Yeah—the adoption didn't go through on him. He flat-out refused to be adopted because we were in love."

"Did you tell your parents that?" Katherine wants to know.

I shake my head at her. "God, no—they could've lost their fostering license and credibility to adopt Owen's twin sister, Chelsea. It was Chelsea who found out about all of this; she blackmailed me for hundreds of dollars to keep quiet. It was probably because she lived so hand-to-mouth before CPS got her..."

"I'm so sorry," Katherine says, putting her arm around me and squeezing my shoulder.

"It got worse when I found out I was pregnant," I confess. "She upped the ante and doubled her money..."

"What a bitch," Katherine tells me.

I smile ruefully at her. "Happy birthday to me, right?"

"It's your birthday?" she asks. "Which one?"

"Twenty-first," I reply.

"Happy birthday," she tells me.

It is then that my phone buzzes and I check it. "Oh, an email," I say.

"Go ahead," Katherine says, looking up and keeping an eye on our girls while I call up my email app.

The subject line read, MBE Test Scores, and the sender's name was New York National Bar Association. Quickly, I called up the email, my heart pounding a mile a minute.

Dear Leia Torrance,

Congratulations, we are pleased to inform you that you've successfully passed the New York State MBE Exam. Your score was a 188. You should feel very proud, and a representative will be in touch with you within a few weeks to discuss your options going forward.

Once again, congratulations.

Sincerely,

The National Bar Association of New York

"Anything urgent?" Katherine asks as I put my phone away.

"I passed my bar exam!" I cry out. My phone immediately buzzes again, and I am perplexed to see my mother's number showing up on the screen. Rolling my eyes, I force myself to keep a neutral tone as I pick up. "Hello, Mother."

"Hey, Leia. Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Listen, I didn't call to make small talk—this is serious."

"Can you hold on a minute, please?" I ask, covering the bottom of my phone and turning to Katherine. "It's my mom—I think it's a family emergency. Do you mind if I step away for a few moments?"

"I'll watch the girls—go ahead," Katherine assures me.

"Thanks," I reply, getting to my feet and walking a few feet away. "Mom? Sorry, I'm at the playground, it's a little loud..."

"Can you hear me?" she asks.

"Yeah, I can hear you," I assure her.

"I heard you were trying to track down your birth father..."

"Mom, if Dad's upset that I am..."

"That's not it, sweetheart... Your father and I kept a secret from you for a long time and you're finally twenty-one, so you can know it now."

"A secret? What secret? What aren't you telling me?"

"Listen, sweetheart, you were a little girl—five-years-old—and you wouldn't have been able to understand certain things," my mother tells me patiently. "It was done for your own good..."

"What was done for my own good? Mom? What was...?"

"Are you at Washington Market Park?" she asks.

My blood runs cold. "Yes. I take Alexandrine here all the time—even you would know that information. Why?"

"Happy birthday," says a voice from behind me.

Turning around, my jaw drops then when I see Henrietta standing directly behind me in that moment. She would be forty-three now, yet she looks as if she could be in her thirties; she's aged remarkably well. She has the flowing hair that I inherited and her eyes are on point. She smiles at me, and reaches out to take my hand and, blinded by tears, I take it.

"Mom... Edythe, what's happening?" I ask, realizing that I hadn't ever taken the phone from my ear. "Mom... Mom, they said you were..."

She nods. "Yes, they were right to say I was dead."

"Why?" I demand. "Why did you leave me...?"

She shakes her head. "I wasn't dead, Leia," she tells me, tucking a bit of my hair behind my ear, as most of it is covered by a winter cap.

"Where were you, then?" I demand, tears coursing down my cheeks. "All I wanted was my mother and you were just...gone."

She sighs. "I'll tell you everything," she assures me.

"First—where were you?" I demand again.

"She was in prison, sweetheart," I hear from behind me and, when I turn around, I see my adopted mother standing behind me.