Nora is laughing against my shoulder. I love the sound of it.
The smash cake is a hit.
Harper looks at it suspiciously for a moment. Pokes one finger into the frosting, examines the result, and puts it in her mouth. Her face transforms.
Then she goes absolutely to town on it.
Both hands in the cake, frosting everywhere, in her hair, all over her face, covering the birthday dress. She's laughing, delighted with herself, and everyone around her is laughing with her, phones out, capturing every second.
"This is the best thing I've ever seen," Emma says.
Nora wipes a bit of frosting off her own cheek from where Harper splattered. "The bath tonight is going to be interesting."
"Worth it," I say.
And I mean it about more than the bath.
Presents at four-forty-seven. Harper is more interested in the wrapping paper than anything inside. She climbs into a large box that holds a play kitchen from Emma and Chase and refuses to come out, and we let her, because it's her birthday and she's one, and if she wants to live in a box for twenty minutes, that's completely reasonable.
The photographer Emma hired as her gift has been capturing everything. Around five, she suggests familyphotos.
"With the jerseys," Emma insists. "You have to do the matching jerseys."
I catch Nora's eye.
She knows. I've been carrying the ring for two weeks. Emma knows because I called her and asked for the specific blessing that I knew I needed. Not permission, just a blessing. Her confirmation that she sees who I've become and thinks I'm allowed to have this.
She cried, said yes, and then made me promise to do it somewhere Harper could be there, and now here we are.
We go inside to change into the matching jerseys with WEST 17 on the back, in three sizes. Nora pulls hers on and looks in the hallway mirror, and shakes her head.
"I can't believe I'm wearing your jersey."
"You've been wearing my hoodie for months. A jersey is a natural progression."
"Your hoodie is comfortable. This is a statement."
"Yeah," I say. "It is."
The photographer positions us in front of the house with the backyard behind us. Me holding Harper, Nora beside me, all three of us in WEST 17. The photos take a while. Harper keeps trying to escape, Ethan photobombs twice, and Sofia wants to be in every single one.
But there's a moment, between the chaos, where it's just the three of us. The photographer says something quiet, and we both look at the camera at the same time, and whatever she captures in that moment is, I think, exactly what we are.
Real.
After the photos, while Harper is being passed around for goodbye cuddles, I post my favorite shot to Instagram for the first time, making it public, making it official. The three of us in matching jerseys grinning in the afternoon light.
My girls. My everything. Happy first birthday, Harper Rose. These ten months changed my life in every way that matters.
By eight-thirty, people start heading out. Emma, Chase,Diane, Maya, and Jackson are all staying at the same nearby hotel. Danny’s heading back to the city. Liam and Michelle to their place across town.
"Thank you for coming," I tell Emma, hugging her. "For all of it. Every single month of it."
"Of course. We're family." She pulls back, looks between Nora and me. "You both did well. Really well."
After everyone leaves, it's just us.
Harper, exhausted from the best day of her life, goes down without a fight. We do her bedtime routine together, the way we always do: bath with frosting in her hair, pajamas, bottle, and one short story. She's asleep before we finish it.