"What do you mean you 'found' her? Have you been looking for her? We decided.."
"I know what we decided, Stevie. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since she turned 18. She's 19 now."
"I know exactly how old she is. I was there, you know."
"Are you going to be a pain in the ass or are you going to look at photos with me?" He holds up his iPad and sits down on the couch, and she joins him.
"You have photos? Where did you..."
"The records became public when she turned 18. I got the information today and found her online."
"Where is she?"
"San Francisco. Here, this is her Facebook page," he says, handing it to her.
"Emmeline King," she reads, looking uselessly at the iPad. "You know I don't know how to work this thing."
"Sorry," he says, taking it back and pulling up pictures. "I haven't looked either."
"You didn't?"
"I wanted to wait for you."
"What are we doing? We could screw up her whole life, Lindsey."
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about her every day since 1995."
"Of course I have... but we gave her up. How could she forgive us for that?"
"You know it's not that simple."
"I wasn't in any position to raise her. After you left..."
"I didn't leave," he says defensively.
"Let's not do this. It's in the past."
"You're better now."
"I'm better," she repeats, flashing back to that whole year. 1994 was the most fragile she'd ever been. When she got pregnant with Emmeline, Lindsey knew she was barely able to keep herself alive. They fought for months, but ultimately did what they thought was best. They decided to let her be raised in San Francisco by a beautiful young couple they got to choose. The family never knew who the parents were, and Stevie liked it that way. Not a day had gone by that she didn't regret their decision. Her relationship with Lindsey never recovered. It was too hard.
"Here," he says, showing Stevie her photo. She's a stunning girl, about Stevie's size, her blonde wavy hair and complexion. Lindsey's unmistakable eyes.
"Oh my God, Lindsey. She's gorgeous."
"She looks like you."
"She looks like us," she corrects him, unable to stop staring at the screen. "We made that."
"We did," he repeats, putting his arm around her. She cries openly, her hand covering her mouth as she watches him scroll through her photos. She plays the piano. She sings. She's a dancer.
"There are no photos of her mom," Stevie notices.
"No, there aren't," Lindsey confirms. "I was noticing that, too."
"I need to meet her."
"I already found the adoption agency's information. We can give them our information to pass along to Emmeline. Then she can make a decision to contact us or not."
She nods eagerly. "Do it, Lindsey." Her voice shakes, and he can't help but hug her.
"I will," he promises, suddenly incredibly aware of how important this is to her.
"I hope she wants to know who we are."
"Me, too."
"Thank you for finding her. For showing me," she says, slipping her hand into his.
"I wasn't going to do this alone, Stevie. You're her mother," he says, smiling a little. "I know it's complicated, but I think we owe her and ourselves a chance." She nods in agreement.
"Give them our information tomorrow. Then we'll know."
"I will. First thing," he promises. "Good night, Stevie."
"Goodnight, Lindsey," she echoes, returning to her bed for what will definitely be a long, sleepless night.
