Sunday, 26th of August.

A D D I E

"Addie?"

"Addie?"

"Ads?"

I blinked and peered up at Zac who was standing beside the armchair that I was curled up in. Willa and I had come into the sun room to read for a little while but when I looked over at the sofa, worried that I'd zoned out for too long and she'd left, I saw that she was asleep, her book sat open on the floor beside her.

"Oh," I closed my own book and whispered. "That's so sweet. She must be exhausted."

"She's had a long afternoon. You look like you were asleep with your eyes open. You wanna head upstairs and have a snooze?"

I did feel tired but that wasn't the reason that I was having trouble remaining in the present. "No, no. I'm fine. Just day dreaming."

He held out his hand and I only hesitated for a moment before I took it and let him pull me up out of the seat. I hadn't even noticed that Keith was on the other side of the room with a tall glass of beer. As usual, he was staring out of the window.

"You alright, pops?" Zac whisper shouted.

He waved over his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Zac wore a soft smile even though his dad wasn't looking at us and he kept his fingers laced with mine as we climbed the stairs. We passed my bedroom and carried on down the hall until we reached his. His room was simple. A nice pale blue with framed photos of his parents and canvas' with old cars printed on them. His bed was in the middle of the room and the sun was set enough that it wasn't sweltering and heating up the bed.

He climbed onto it and pulled me down with him, shuffling us both until my head was on his chest and his arm was wound around my shoulder. "What are we doing?" I questioned.

"Just relaxin'. That alright?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"So relax, I can feel the tension in your shoulders."

What I'd learned this afternoon did have me wound up so much that my jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. There was a chance that I was wrong. Perhaps Willa wasn't the baby girl that I'd given up for adoption when I was fifteen. America is huge. There were probably a lot of little girls given up for adoption on the 6th of May, 2009.

Still, I had a feeling. Call it a gut feeling. It was her.

Not to mention the similarities. When I'd first arrived, I thought that she reminded me of Margo. But perhaps it was a subconscious deflection, not wanting to admit that she had the same nose, skin tone and hair as me. But there were smaller things. The reading, which admittedly wasn't a rare trait to have, it just happened to work in this argument. She also did this thing when she was off in thought, her tongue would tap the top of her lip. Margo used to tell me if I did that, I'd get chapped lips.

"You wanna talk about it?" Zac offered, his breath warm on the top of my head. His hand rubbed up and down my arm and as wound up as I was, he provided a sense of comfort.

But I couldn't talk about it. How was I meant to bring something like that up? How was I meant to confess that there was a good chance I gave birth to Willa and it was a pure coincidence that I'd ended up back in her life?

I shook my head and snuggled in closer to him. "Just the usual."

"You think about her a lot, huh?" He murmured. "I notice that you zone out quite a bit."

He wasn't wrong, even if it was different this time, I was thinking about Margo all the time. I nodded and let him think that was the problem.

"You ever thought about keeping a journal?"

I blinked, surprised at what he said. "What?"

"A journal. Write down all the thoughts and the feelings. Write down the pain. A therapist that I saw after mom died, told me that it was a good way to let some of it go. An outlet. I think the reason they pushed the journal so hard was because I was a teenager and a lot of teenagers use—"

"Alcohol," I nodded and he kissed the top of my head, it made my stomach tighten. "Yeah. I'm not a big drinker. There's no chance of that happening."

"I didn't think there was," he chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath me. "Could still help. I know it helped me."

A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. "Really?"

"How about I show you?"

I leaned up with a palm on his chest and saw the genuine need to help in his soft gaze. Soft but so strong.

"You want to show me your grief journal?"

His brows raised. "I never called it that. But it works. Yeah it's not a secret. Well, I wouldn't give it the general public but I think I can trust you."

"You can," I smiled as he stood up off the bed and headed over to his closet. I was thankful for distraction to be honest. Not that I would treat this as a simple distraction, he was sharing a huge part of his past with me. But it was nice to have a shift in thoughts.

He sat back down with a worn leather notebook. He leaned against the headboard, raised his knee and rested an elbow on it while he held it and flicked through the pages. I folded my legs beside him and waited.

"Alright," he clacked his tongue, his eyes roaming over the words. "Uh here we go," he cleared his throat, dramatic and loud, he grinned when I laughed. "Shit my handwriting was awful. I'll read it out."

Something about his confidence and ability to share made him so much more attractive than he already was.

"I didn't date these but doesn't matter I suppose. And don't laugh, I titled all of them dear journal."

I bit down on a grin, raised my pinky and swiped the side of nose. "I would never laugh."

His lids became heavier as his gaze swept my face, lingering on my mouth. The moment was brief and then he inhaled, looked down at the journal and cleared his throat.

"Dear journal," he said. "This is stupid. Jennifer said that I should write all of my sad, angry and happy feelings down but I never feel happy and who really wants to talk about being angry and sad. I'm always angry and sad. It's just whatever at this point. I guess that's the good thing about this weird journal thing. I can say it like it is because no one is looking at me like they feel bad. People do that enough already and it pisses me off. Thanks for reminding me that my mom is dead with one damn sad smile. Today Raine wanted me to go horse riding but I hate them. I hate them. They killed my mom. She loved them and they killed her. She's dumb for trusting them. She's dumb for loving them. She should have chosen us and now she's dead."

Zac looked up at me and I snapped my mouth shut.

"Yep. I was mad. Mad about all of it."

"I get that."

"That was an earlier entry. I'll read the last one that I wrote."

I rested my hand on his knee and his gaze flickered toward it for a moment, a small smile lifting his lips before he averted his attention back to the journal and flicked toward the back.

"Dear journal. I rode. I got on Maisy and I rode her until I arrived at mom's burial plot. She'd have been proud of me. She'd have told me that forgiveness washed away the bitter taste of resentment. She'd have been right. I'm not upset with her. She lived her life for others, animals and humans alike. She impacted lives. She gave her entire heart to the rehabilitation and training of horses. She died but she didn't leave. She lives on in this farm, in these animals, in her cause. I'll keep on loving them for her and I'll give them an extra carrot from mom to remind them that she's looking out. On all of us."

I wiped at a tear rolling down my cheek and smiled when he closed the journal and looked at me.

"I want to get there so bad," I sobbed and felt humiliated at what a mess I'd become. Not that he was ever bothered. He gripped my wrist and pulled me to him so that I was straddling his lap.

He held my face. "You will."

"But I'm not even angry with Margo. I'm just— I'm upset and I'm angry at me or disappointed that she died before she got everything that she wanted and I—"

"Ssh," Zac pulled me in and kissed my forehead, his lips lingered for a beat. He had no idea what I was talking about. He knew some of it but he didn't know all Margo's lifelong dreams or what stole them from her. He kissed me again and then looked at me. "Write it down. Write it all down. Just— let it out. I can't promise that it'll solve it all. But it might help. It helped me."

I sniffed and nodded.

"I'm always here though, if you nee—"

The door swung open and Raine stood at the threshold in a T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. She winced but didn't retreat. So I slid off Zac's lap, even though I could feel his grip and knew he didn't want me to move.

"Neither of you better deny this budding romance again. Caught red handed."

Zac sighed.

"Anyway, is this what y'all call babysitting? Leaving Willa alone while you canoodle?"

"What are you, eighty?" Zac teased and we both stood up from the bed. "Na she was asleep. We came up here for a nap."

"Mhmm. Whole lot of sleeping going on around here."

Zac gave her a gentle shove in the shoulder and she punched him before she ran off downstairs. We joined her in the kitchen a moment later where she was scouring through the fridge.

"Is Willa still asleep?" Zac asked, leaning around his sister so that he could get a beer out of the fridge. He gestured at me in question. "Want one?"

"I'm alright, thanks."

"Yep, Will is asleep. I'm going to snatch your girl for an hour so that we can sit on the deck with wine and gossip."

Zac used an opener and flung the cap off the bottle as he sauntered toward me with total confidence. He rested his hand on my waist and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Have a good afternoon."

"Watch Willa," Raine shouted after him. I was busy fighting the heat that was taking over my entire face when Raine spun around, grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and a couple of glasses and ordered that I follow her outside.

We sat down at the sofa and she set down her goods on the glass coffee table in front of us. All that was left of the sun was a dusting of dark orange atop the green hills on the horizon. Beautiful. Like a painting. But now that I was out here, alone with Raine, my thoughts were shot back to this afternoon's conversation and it put a ball of nervous tension in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't have downed the wine that she slid in front of me, even if I wanted to.

"Sleep well?" I asked Raine before she could ask me about her brother. I could tell that she was gearing up to tease me.

"Oh, mhmm. Yeah I slept fine. How was your afternoon with Willa? Did she behave?"

"Would she ever not behave?"

Raine grinned and pulled her legs up under her bum. "She's a good kid."

"She told me that sh—"

I paused. I knew that I could trust Raine. If I was going to tell anyone about this, she'd be the best person to tell. But Willa's words continued to echo loud and clear. Choosing family is a much more powerful love and connection than acknowledging someone just because their blood is tied to mine.

Her blood was tied to mine but I didn't choose her. Not in the sense that might matter to a little girl. I gave her up because I believed that was what was best for her. I wasn't able to raise a child at that stage of my life. But what if none of them saw it like that? There was a good chance that if the truth came out, that would be it. I would be asked to leave.

But I had to know for sure.

"She told me that she's adopted," I finished, throat thick. Raine recoiled with a wide stare.

"She did? Huh, she must trust you."

That made me feel ten times worse.

"She's not secretive about it but she doesn't come right out and tell people. Well, not like she used to when she was using it to her advantage," Raine rolled her eyes as she sipped on the wine. "But now, she prefers not to mention it. Most people don't even look twice at us as a family. Between Milo and I, she just looks like a mix of us. Lighter than me but darker than her dad. It's cute."

I can tell that Raine loves the family that she's made for herself. Would she feel threatened if she knew the truth?

"Do you know much about her adoption?"

Raine slowly sipped again and I wondered if she was hoping to nurse that drink so that it lasted all night. "Not even Milo and his wife knew a lot. They chose to adopt because she couldn't get pregnant. So they went through an agency who ended up finding someone in California. The details on the woman were scarce but they know that she was young and couldn't raise her. I don't think Milo ever met her. It was all closed and done rather fast. Willa still had goo on her when they handed her over to Milo and Siena."

"Was she born in Santa Monica?"

Raine paused with the glass in front of her mouth. She stared. I stared. She didn't need to verbally confirm it, her expression said it all. But she answered anyway.

"Yes."

I nodded and felt tears welling. I couldn't see. All of this time and I'd been spending time with my. . . well I didn't want to use the term daughter. She wasn't mine to claim. But the girl that I'd given birth to. A piece of me. I'd agreed to a closed adoption which meant I wasn't allowed to look for them and vice versa. But here I was. It looked bad. It looked like I'd shown up here on purpose.

"I was in Santa Monica with Margo for work when I went into labor."

Raine scrambled up out of the seat and fell into the one beside me. Her cheeks were quivering and her brows were pinched. "She's yours?"

"Only biologically." She's not mine. I didn't raise her.

She stared at the ground, gaze wide. "How do you know? Are you sure?"

"It all adds up. I didn't know until a few hours ago though, I swear."

"This is unbelievable," Raine murmured. "It has to be fate. It has to be."

I whipped my head toward her and stared with disbelief. How did she seem excited about this? "I don't think Milo is going to see it as fate. I signed an agreement. A legal one. To surrender all rights and never make contact in regards to Willa. He's going to be pissed. And Willa? She might want nothing to do with me. And fair enough too."

"No, no," Raine shifted beside me and came even closer if that were possible. She swiped at her damp cheeks. "You don't understand. Willa wanted to find her birth parents a while ago. She insisted that she at least get a name or a photo. All we managed to find was a name. Addison Bianchi. But as far as our searches went, that person stopped existing around the time that Will was born. After that, there were no records of phone numbers, licences, rentals, nothing in that name."

"You're cops. Seriously?"

She laughed through a sob. "We didn't use all of our resources. It would've been a breach of confidence according to the signed agreement. As it was, sourcing a name was more than we should have done."

"Bianchi was my birth name. Legally. I changed my name later. After the adoption. It was Margo's idea that we change our last name to May. The month Willa was born. A subtle way of honouring her."

She nodded and we fell into a quiet lull. The only sound was the swish of tree leaves in the soft breeze. The jangle of dog collars as the border collies ran around the garden together. The far off whinnies of the horses in the paddocks. These sounds were becoming somewhat soothing and familiar the longer that I was here. But perhaps moving on was closer than I thought.

"I should have put it together when I saw the name Addison. But your licence read May. So I didn't think twice. Still, I can see the resemblance. I don't know how none of us acknowledged it sooner."

I shrugged. There were similarities but she might have taken more after her birth father. Not that I could remember what he looked like.

"What do you want to do?" Raine asked, breaking the quiet.

"What do I want to do?"

She nodded.

"It doesn't matter what I want. It's up to Milo and Willa. And you. You're the mother figure in her life now."

"Okay but forget about all of the complications. What do you want? If anything were possible. Would you want to get to know her? Be in her life?"

"It's not that simple."

She sighed. "Just answer the question."

Tears pricked at my eyes again. "Yeah. I'd want to be in her life. As a friend. I don't want anyone to think that I'm trying to swoop in and take her though."

"I don't think that'll be what anyone thinks."

I looked at Raine and saw the face of kindness staring back at me. "You really don't believe that I came here with ulterior motives?"

"Of course not," she put her arm around my shoulder and sniffed. "I know what happened with your sister is true. The story checked out. I just. . . I don't believe that you'd be selfish enough to do something like that. I can't explain it. I just think this was meant to happen. You were meant to be here."

She had no idea what that meant to me. "What should I do now?" I whispered.

"If you'd prefer, I can talk to Milo. Explain it. Gauge his reaction before he sees you again."

"That might be best."

"You should tell Zac though."

I winced.

"Whatever is happening between you two, that's something that the other person should know about."

There might have been a lot that Zac should know about. That didn't make it easy to confess.

"He's pretty understanding. Most of the time."

"That makes me feel better."

Even if she told me that he'd handle it with total understanding and could assure me that he would be supportive and caring, I still wouldn't feel better about having to tell him this truth when I was still hiding and denying another truth.