I was afraid of how much I already did not want to lose this — and of moving too fast toward something after trusting the wrong thing for so long.

In September, Paisley started first grade.

“Dr.

Samantha, are you going to be there on my first day?” she asked, her eyes huge and hopeful, and I looked at Zachary, who was very intently pretending to focus on pouring coffee.

“Of course I’ll be there,” I said.

That morning she walked toward the school doors holding Zachary’s hand on one side and mine on the other, and at the threshold she spun around and called out, loud enough for the whole hallway: “Are you both going to be right here when school’s done?” And Zachary answered without hesitation.

“Both of us will be right here.” When the classroom door closed, he turned to me.