Invisible String

12

We hadn’t even reached the steps before I heard them.

“Taylor! Is this the baby?”
“Congrats on the new addition!”
“Are they both adopted?”

The paparazzi voices cut through the morning like a knife. My heart was pounding, but I didn’t hesitate—I walked straight down those steps like I had somewhere to be, because I did. We weren’t going to let this circus stop us from taking our daughters to a simple pediatrician appointment.

I reached the SUV first and gently, carefully, clicked Mira’s car seat into the base. She didn’t stir, not even when the camera flashes flared brighter. Thank God. I had a soft muslin blanket covering her completely, shielding her from the chaos, and I wasn’t about to move it. No one was getting a glimpse of her—not today.

I circled around to the other side of the car and slid into the back seat. Travis opened the back passenger door on the other side to settle Lily in, his big frame blocking her from view like a wall. I heard one of the photographers yell, “Travis! Can we get a smile?”
He didn’t even flinch.

Once the doors were all shut, the silence hit like a wave.

I peeled off my sunglasses and glanced down at Mira, lifting the blanket a little to check her face. Still asleep. Peaceful. Oblivious to the flashbulbs, the shouting, the noise. I reached out and stroked her cheek with one finger. So soft. So perfect.

“She’s okay,” I whispered, more to myself than to Travis.

“She’s okay too,” he replied, glancing at Lily through the rearview mirror.

I leaned forward, my heart still aching from all of it, and whispered, “Hey, Lil? You did amazing, baby. I know that was a lot. We’re going to see a doctor for Mira and then maybe get pancakes. You want some pancakes?”

Her head peeked up, her messy curls bouncing, and she nodded. “Mira get pancakes too?”

I laughed a little. “She’s just going to nap. But yeah, she can come.”

“Okay,” Lily mumbled, slumping back against her seat.

At the next red light, Travis reached over and squeezed my hand. I looked over at him. “That was… awful.”

He nodded once. “But we got through it.”

“I hate that this is their life now.”

“They’re going to grow up with us,” he said softly. “That’s what matters. All the rest? We handle it.”

And I knew he was right. In the backseat were two beautiful little girls. One asleep, one wide-eyed and watching the trees fly past. Ours.

No matter how we got here, no matter how messy or loud or overwhelming it felt… this was our family. And I’d go through it a hundred times over, just to hold their hands through it.

The pediatrician’s office was tucked into a quiet corner of town, about as low-key as you could ask for. We parked in a reserved spot around back, hoping to avoid another encounter with flashing cameras and shouted questions. Mira was still asleep in her car seat, and Lily had perked up now that the chaos had died down, humming some half-remembered tune from Bluey while kicking her feet softly.

As we stepped into the office, the receptionist’s eyes widened just a little, but she kept her composure. I could tell she recognized us, but she only smiled kindly and said, “Hi, you must be Mira and Lily’s parents. Welcome. Dr. Menendez will see you in a few minutes.”

We sat in the quiet waiting room, which thankfully was empty. I bounced Lily gently on my knee while Travis kept a hand on Mira’s car seat, his thumb brushing over the handle like he needed to keep reminding himself this was real.