That big bear of a man got up from his side of the desk. I got up, too, reflexively, defensively. He lunged at me, hugging me so tightly I thought I was going to lose feeling in my middle. He pulled back and wiped tears from his eyes, which I had seen him do only twice before. He grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “A grandchild would be just the thing.”

I realized that mine wasn’t the only life that had all but ended when Greer went. George’s had, too. He needed me. I needed him. And he was right: a grandchild would be just the thing.

Amelia WORST-CASE SCENARIO

LYING ON A PAPER-COVERED TABLE in Dr. Salter’s tiny, old-fashioned Cape Carolina doctor’s office, eyes closed to block out the glare of the inhospitable fluorescent lights, waiting for the procedure that would change my life, I felt, for the first time in weeks, completely calm. We were here. This was happening. It was real. I sensed eyes on me, and I opened mine, realizing that it was Parker’s gaze I felt. When I smiled at him, he kissed my hand that he was holding in both of his. That was it, I realized. His being there was why I felt so calm.

Channeling my inner Greer, I had made Dr. Salter—poor Dr. Salter—take me into the lab before the implantation to see the embryos, which had been shipped to NC from Palm Beach for the occasion. We were implanting the two most viable ones: the teddy bear and the flower, as Greer had called them. They really did look uncannily like their namesakes.

“Hi, babies,” I had said to the two of them—a boy and a girl. “I’m Amelia, and I am going to be growing you for a while until you’re big and strong enough to come out and play. I have known your daddy, Parker, for a really, really long time, and I think he is going to be the best father in world. You two are extremely lucky babies.” I paused. “So get ready to get sticky and stay inside me for the next nine months—or a little longer if you want.” I touched my finger to the slide and whispered, “This is really important to a lot of people.”

So, yeah, it’s weird to talk to cells. But I wanted them to know that I was in this for the long haul.

I realized on the drive home how incredibly simple it had all been. All this buildup, all this worry. And, in a matter of minutes, it was over. It had happened. The actual process had involved little more than a tiny catheter and had been pretty darn easy. The mild sedative probably helped.

As Parker drove, unable to wipe the smile off his face, I, still blurry from the drugs, finally took a moment to reflect on all that had transpired the past couple of months.