MACK  “WHAT BABY?” I STARE INTO SUNNY’S EYES AND COMPEL HER TO SPEAK. DIDI hear her right? I knock the side of my head to unclog my brain. I could be having delusions. All this sex could be creating a fantasy fog where my whole perfect life exists.“B-baby?”It’s the stutter that convinces me. I get up and pull her to her feet. “Where’s your purse?”“Downstairs.”I pick her up and carry her out of the bedroom. “Mack, put me down. Where are we going?”I don’t reply because I can already anticipate the comments. It’s too late. We don’t have to get married. Let’s co-parent. All those modern terms that might be fine for other people but not for me and not for Sunny.I spot her purse on the kitchen table and sweep it under my arm. “Seriously, Mack. Where are you taking me?”“Courthouse.” I kick the door open and make my way to the car. “The courthouse? It’s past ten. The courthouse is closed

"At first, my neighbor Deacon frustrated me.Sure, he was great-looking and friendly.But our walls were thin, and on occasion, he’d bring women to his place and keep me awake while he “entertained” them.As a single mother to an infant, I didn’t appreciate it.So, finally it was my turn.When my daughter wouldn’t stop wailing one night, Mr. Manwhore came knocking on my door.Miraculously, at the sound of his voice, Sunny stopped crying. And when he held her…she eventually fell asleep in his arms.Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer.After that night, we became friends.He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff.But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer.Until one night we crossed the line.Our friendship turned into a complicated mess.I’d gone and fallen for a guy who’d sworn off commitment and kids.I knew Deacon was starting to care for me too, even though Sunny a

A shiver ran down my spine, as if he’d complimented me on something much more exciting than my name.My senses were having a field day between Deacon’s amazing scent and the delicious aroma of the espresso—two of my favorite smells blended together. But mostly my body was hyperaware of the gorgeous creature standing in front of me—one who’d made a woman scream in pleasure just last night.Deacon walked over to the corner of the room. I admired him as he examined the photos displayed on my shelves. Most of them were of Sunny, but he lifted one of me. I braced myself as he looked back and forth from the photo to where I was standing.“You were a ballet dancer?”I nodded. “Yeah. I was…for several years. Not anymore, obviously.” “Professionally?”“Yes. I performed for The Manhattan Ballet as a principal dancer.”If I’d thought his stare was penetrating before, that was nothing compared to the way he looked at me now.“Wow.” He glanced back down at the photo. It showed me in an arabesque.

Later that night, Sunny was inconsolable. She would not stop crying, and I cursed myself for letting her get that shot today. I’d called a nurse’s hotline, and they told me her fever of 102 was normal under the circumstances, and there was no need to take her to an emergency room. They said to monitor her and make sure she was getting enough fluids.I’d brought her into my bedroom because I couldn’t leave her alone like this. I also thought holding her would help, but it didn’t seem to matter. Holding her only made me feel better.Her wailing continued as I paced the room and rocked her. I’d never seen her like this before.There was a knock at the door that I barely heard through her crying.Shit. Had one of the neighbors complained? I didn’t need anyone’s wrath on top of this.I walked over to the door and looked through the peephole.It was Deacon. Remembering he had that girl over, I cringed. The roles had reversed. Now we were disturbing his peace.When I opened, I started babbli

“Well, I’m definitely learning from this conversation. I’ve never known anyone with Down syndrome before Sunny. But I can clearly see that she’s a healthy, happy baby.”Sunny continued to sleep through our whispered conversation.“Don’t get me wrong,” Carys said. “She will definitely face challenges a typical kid wouldn’t. But overall, our day-to-day life is the same as if she didn’t have Down’s.” She stared off. “When people ask me, ‘what she has’ or ‘how I feel,’ I tell them she was blessed with an extra chromosome and leave it at that.”I loved that. I nodded. “Everything is a matter of outlook.”“That’s right. And I don’t view her as handicapped. Unique, maybe. But not handicapped.” Carys played with some lint on the couch. “They did tell me to expect her speech to be delayed. She started early-intervention services as soon as she was born. Someone comes to the apartment a couple of times a week. She might have to learn sign language before she starts talking, but I’ll take that a