Meeting the little sister

Mallory

Kian wanted me to meet his little sister.

He didn't say it like it was a big deal, but I knew it was. I could tell by the way he kept checking his phone this morning, pacing a little, acting like he wasn't nervous even though he totally was. The social workers were bringing her over today—for a few hours, just a visit—and he wanted me there.

I said yes without even thinking.

Because if Emi was his, then she was part of this now too. Part of us. And I wanted her to like me. I needed her to, even though that probably sounds mad. I'm not trying to be her mam or anything, but I know what Kian's like—he keeps his circle small. If he's letting someone in, it matters.

And Emi mattered more than anything to him.

I wanted to get her something—nothing too big, just a little present so she'd know I was excited to meet her. Problem was, I had no clue what eight-year-old girls liked. Last I checked, they were still into glitter and ponies, but what do I know?

So I rang Uncle Ollie. He's got a six-year-old, my youngest cousin, Amara, and he answered the phone sounding half-exhausted and covered in paint.

"Glitter gel pens," he said instantly, like he'd been waiting for someone to ask. "And maybe a notebook. Something sparkly. That age group's obsessed with stationery."

I trusted him.

Now I was sitting in Kian's living room, hands a little sweaty, gift bag on my lap, trying not to act like I was about to meet the Queen or something.

He sat beside me, tapping his knee like he was trying not to bounce his leg. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Are you okay?"

He gave me a crooked smile. "I will be when she's here."

And then the door knocked.

Kian jumped up before I could even blink, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his rush to get to the door. I stood too, clutching the little pink gift bag tighter than I meant to. My heart was doing that weird fluttery thing—excited and nervous all at once.

I heard him open the door, his voice low but warm.

"Hi. Yeah—yeah, come in."

And then I saw her.

Emi was small, with big brown eyes just like Kian's, hair pulled back into two messy plaits with those bobbles that had glitter stars on the ends. She was holding a small backpack to her chest like a shield, half hiding behind the social worker, until she caught sight of Kian—and then her whole face changed.

She smiled. Not big and dramatic, but the kind that made her look softer around the edges, like something had eased in her chest.

Kian crouched down, held his arms open, and she ran into them like she'd been waiting all day.

My throat went tight.

He held her for a while, arms wrapped around her like he never wanted to let go. And I got it. Because I don't think he did.

After a moment, he pulled back and tilted his head toward me. "Emi, this is Mallory. She's... she's really special to me."

I swallowed and offered a little wave. "Hi, Emi. It's so nice to meet you."

She blinked at me, then stepped a little closer, eyeing the bag in my hands. "Is that for me?"

I nodded, smiling. "It is. My uncle Ollie helped me pick it out. He said glitter pens were elite."

That got a giggle.

She took the bag carefully and peeked inside, her eyes going wide. "These are so cool! And the notebook's pink!" She looked up at me properly then. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, my voice wobbling just a bit.

She looked back at Kian. "She's really pretty."

I laughed, and Kian turned a bit pink. "Alright, chill out," he muttered, ruffling her hair. "She's mine, not yours."

Emi just grinned at both of us, and for a second, it felt like the whole room got lighter.

Like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something good.

Kian led Emi into the living room properly, still holding her hand like he wasn't quite ready to let go yet. I sat back down on the edge of the couch, and she perched on the armchair across from me, legs swinging like she had too much energy to sit still but was trying really hard to be polite.

The social worker—a woman named Siobhan, who looked like she'd seen it all but still smiled kindly—gave Kian a quick update and said she'd be back in two hours to pick Emi up. She left not long after, and then it was just the three of us.

"Well?" Kian asked, grinning. "What do you think of the place?"

Emi looked around like she was inspecting a castle, then gave a tiny, approving nod. "It's tidy."

I snorted.

"Only because I spent half the morning helping him clean it," I added.

"You did not," Kian protested, grinning. "You sat on the couch and told me where to put things."

"Which is still helping."

Emi was watching us both now with a funny little smile, like she couldn't quite figure us out yet but thought maybe we were a bit hilarious. She opened the notebook I gave her and ran her fingers over the sparkly cover, then looked up at me again.

"Are you going to be the baby's mam?"

I blinked, caught off guard by how direct she was.

Kian stiffened beside me like he hadn't been expecting that either, but I saw him glance over, waiting for me to answer.

I smiled gently. "Yeah. I am."

She nodded, serious now. "And you'll be nice to her?"

My chest tightened.

"I promise," I said softly. "I'll do everything I can to make sure she's happy. Just like your brother wants to do for you."

Emi looked satisfied with that. She leaned back in the chair, notebook in her lap, kicking her legs again. "Okay. Then I like you."

Kian laughed, letting out a breath like he'd been holding it the whole time.

"High praise," he said to me, nudging my leg with his.

I looked over at him and smiled, and for the first time all day, he looked like he could breathe again.

Emi flipped open to the first page of the notebook and began to write something in glitter pen. After a minute, she held it up to show us.

"Me + Mammy + Kian + Mal + baby"

My heart nearly burst.

Kian leaned forward, gently brushing a hand over her hair. "Looks like a proper family, doesn't it?"

And for the first time, it really, truly did.