Her pride rose fast. “I can’t accept that.”
“It’s not charity,” he said calmly. “It’s one parent helping another. Your daughter needs it.”
The words softened something in her.
“Her name is Lily,” she said quietly.
“That’s beautiful. My daughter’s name is Ava.”
Emily hesitated, then accepted the bag with trembling hands.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s cold,” he added. “Let me drive you home.”
After a moment’s pause, she nodded.
The ride was short and mostly quiet. Ava chatted in the backseat about the shapes she saw in the clouds. Emily gave directions in a low voice, bracing herself for judgment when they arrived at her aging apartment building.
But Michael said nothing.
He carried the groceries up the narrow staircase without complaint. The hallway lights flickered. Paint peeled from the walls.
When Emily opened the door, Lily squealed from her small playpen.
“Mama!”
Emily’s exhaustion broke into tears as she lifted her daughter and held her tightly.
“This is Lily,” she said, turning.
Michael looked at the baby and smiled in a way that surprised even him.
“She’s perfect.”