Emma approached, her steps slow and graceful. "I want to call you Sol."
The others turned to her.
"It means sun," she continued. "Light. Life."
The child smiled. "I like Sol."
Jude looked down at the warm body curled against him, heart aching with emotion. "Sol."
One by one, the wives repeated the name. Lucy. Rose. Stella. Susan. Zoey. Layla. Grace. Scarlet. Sophie. Natalie. Emma. And last, Serena, who stepped from the shadows at the edge of the trees, her eyes wide as she took in everything—the tree, the light, the child in Jude's arms.
"I felt it," she said, voice breaking. "Even from far away. I dreamed the moment it bloomed."
Sol looked at her and reached out.
She ran.
But not away—from fear, or rejection. She ran toward them, toward him. She dropped to her knees in front of Jude and pressed her lips to Sol's forehead, eyes brimming with tears.
"I knew you were real," she whispered.
Sol leaned into her kiss, content.
