I secretly lodged the papers months ago and they have only just been approved.
He reads the papers as if unable to believe it and his face screws up in emotion.
“Look what you did, Harry,” Patrick snaps outraged. “He’s crying now because he has to be your father and you’re so naughty. Harry is going to be good from now on, aren’t you, Harry.”
Tristan pulls Patrick onto his lap. “They’re happy tears, Tricky.” He holds his arms out for the other boys. “Come here.”
“Stacks on,” Harry yells.
The boys all dive on Tristan and they all laugh and hug as they roll around on the floor. “I love you brats.”
“We love you too.”
Tears fill my eyes as I watch them, they are so close.
Wade would want this for his sons, to have a father who loves them with all of his heart. To give them what he no longer can.
The lump in my throat is so big that it hurts.
This is the right thing.
“All rise.” The judge walks into the family law court and the room stands.
We sit in the front row, all five of us.
Tristan is beaming with happiness, the children too. Dressed in their best suits, I think they are all more excited than when we got married.
This is a big deal to them.
And to me.
In my pregnant state I’m feeling overemotional. There have been lots of tears, happy tears. But when I saw Wade’s parents walk in quietly and sit at the back of the courtroom my heart broke a little.
It means a lot that they are here to support me and the kids with this. They adore Tristan and know this is what Wade would have wanted. It’s what’s best for the boys, I know it too, but it’s just all a little real today.
Jameson and Emily, Elliot and Christopher are all here, as are Tristan’s parents, my parents and brother.
It’s a big day for our family.
The judge has gray hair and is wearing a robe, he looks over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses and smiles at us with a kind nod, he then looks down at the paperwork in front of him. “I’m here today to call on the matter of adoption of Fletcher Anderson, Harrison Anderson, and Patrick Anderson.”
The room sits quietly and Tristan squeezes my hand in his.
“Mr. Miles, you have filled out the appropriate paperwork?” he asks as he looks over a pile of papers in front of him.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Tristan squeezes my hand again.
“I have reviewed the file and believe that it is in the best interest of Fletcher, Harrison and Patrick Anderson to be adopted by Tristan Miles.”
The boys all beam with excitement and I smile as I watch them, they are nearly jumping out of their seats and can hardly sit still.
“Firstly we will sign the adoption agreement. Parents are to sign and any child over the age of fourteen will sign for themselves.” He passes the paperwork to the secretary. “You may sign now.” Tristan and I and Fletcher stand and sign where we are told to.
Christopher is snapping away taking photos with his phone.
We sign where we are told and the secretary checks our signatures and hands the papers back to the judge, he reads them over the top of his glasses. “By signing this document I hereby declare that you, Tristan Miles, are now a parent under the eyes of law. You will have all rights and duties of the parent-child relationship but most importantly all of the joys.”
Tristan smiles broadly down at the boys.
“Congratulations, Mr. Miles.” He bangs his hammer. “May you all be a very happy family.”
He gets up and walks out of the room and Tristan and the boys hug.
Everyone shakes his hand and hugs the boys and I glance over to Wade’s parents who are still sitting in the back row.
I’m glad they came, I really am.
They eventually make their way down to us and Tristan turns and shakes Wade’s father’s hand and kisses his mother on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot.”
“Wade would have wanted us here.”
And the tears come, filling my eyes with love and sadness and memories and hope.
Wade’s mom pulls me in for a hug as I try to pull myself together, she gets it.
I’m sad for Wade, but happy for the boys.
“We’re having afternoon tea back at our house,” Tristan says to them. “We would love it if you could join us.”
“That would be lovely.” Frank nods. “We will meet you there.” With one more hug for the boys from everyone, we make our way back out to the parking lot and all climb in the car. “So what do we call you now?” Harrison asks from the back seat.
Tristan’s eyes flick up to him in the rearview mirror. “Whatever you want to call me.”
“Donkey,” Harrison asks.
I giggle, if only they knew how much that suits him.
“Not Donkey.” Tristan rolls his eyes.
“Well if I can’t call you Donkey, I’m calling you Dad,” Harry says.
“Okay…” Tristan’s nostrils flare as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Dad it is.”
“Can I call you Daddy?” I tease.
Tristan’s eyes flick over to me and then drop down to my breasts.
Dirty bastard.
“He’s not your daddy, Mom,” Patrick announces. “He’s ours, you already have a dad.”
Tristan chuckles and picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips.
“Oh for god’s sake, concentrate on the road,” Harry moans.
Two months later.
“You call me tonight and check in,” Tristan tells Fletcher.
“Yes.”
“And I don’t want you driving after ten at night.”
Fletcher rolls his eyes.
“Actually, don’t go out at all until we get back. It’s just a week, it won’t hurt you to stay at home with your brothers. You are in charge of the house, stay here and concentrate on that.”
“Dad.” Fletcher moans. “Stop.”
“I just don’t……” Tristan turns back to me. “Maybe this isn’t a good time to go away, Claire.”
“We are going.” I widen my eyes at him. “I want some time alone with my husband.”
Tristan exhales heavily as if I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world and looks back to the boys who are lined up in a row to say goodbye. We are going away for a week before the baby is born, Mom and Dad are here to stay with the kids.
We booked it back when we first got married but now that it’s come around, Tristan is frantic about leaving the boys, this is the first time he’s had to do it.
Tristan moves to Harrison. “Harry, now…” He pauses as he thinks for a moment. “You know what is going to happen if you get into trouble while we are gone, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Harry nods.
“And is it going to be worth it?”
“No, Dad.”
“And you are in charge of what?”
“Cleaning the pool and mowing the lawn.”
Tristan nods and hugs him. “Right, look after your grandparents, please. And no gaming after nine.”
I smirk as I watch on.
He moves to Patrick. “Okay, Tricky, you are in charge of the animals and watering the garden.”
“I know.” Patrick smiles proudly.