Staring out the kitchen window, he wonders if she can see the same night sky he sees.
He wonders if she can see the way the milky-white moon is partially covered by a white-gray cloud, or the way one of the stars shines so much brighter than the others; the rest are clustered together while it's off on its own, seemingly deep in thought.
What do stars think about? On contemplation, he realizes he never really got a chance to ask her.
It's a shock when a small wail comes soft and staticky through the baby monitor.
It's 2:03 am, he knows that because he's spent the better part of the last forty minutes glancing at the clock every sixty seconds. He can't help but wonder why forever is taking so long.
His parents are both sleeping and he could use the company, so he saunters to the baby's pink nursery and pushes the door open gently. The ten-month old blinks up at him slowly and coos softly as he pushes back her messy blonde hair. Her tiny fist rubs at her blue eyes, and the scowl she shoots him as he tickles her bulging belly is a perfect miniature mirror of his own.
Genetics be damned, this little girl is his sister, and he'd kill for her. Just like he'd kill for…
No, no, he won't think of her. Sophie needs him now.
He lifts her slowly and she lays her head on his shoulder as they follow the stairs down to the kitchen. She willingly accepts the bottle he pulls from the fridge and he takes her to the window, pointing at the inky black sky; the same star that had been taunting him before is still watching his every move.
"See those, Soph? They're stars. Aren't they beautiful?" Sophie grins and nuzzles her head closer into his neck, and he takes that as a sign to continue, "They're special- stars, that is. They're special because you can see them from all over the world. No matter where people are, they know what stars are and what they look like. And it's not different stars that everyone sees. They're the same stars. And a lot of them have stories and names. Each one is special and different… Lots of famous songs and stories and poems have been inspired by stars."
Sophie sighs and Ryan leans down to press a kiss to her forehead,
"You're a star, Sophie Rose. You're so special and so beautiful. And every day you inspire me."
Sophie seems to understand and she wraps an arm around her big brother's neck.
"I don't know if you remember her, Soph, but there was another girl I loved just as much as I love you. She was beautiful and smart and funny and just a bit crazy. And at first, she was loud and kind of annoying, but then I got to know her and she was just… well, she was wonderful… She is wonderful, I guess. Special, just like you. But she moved away. To a place far away. To France… Sometimes I wonder if she thinks about me like I think about her… I miss her, peanut. I really do."
He glances down at the baby to find her sleeping peacefully against his shoulder, the bottle dangling dangerously from her lower lip. He ascends the stairs slowly but swiftly, careful not to wake the sleeping child.
In Sophie's nursery, he lays the girl down gently, amazed at how she barely stirs, but manages a soft smile even in her sleep. He leans down to kiss her and takes a step back to leave the room, glancing quickly at the window as he does.
The star is centered in between the white panes.
He wonders if it's her. He wonders if she's speaking to him. He wonders if she can see that star when the sun sets in Paris.
He grins and nods, understanding. They are communicating through the stars, through the signs, through the night.
As he goes to sleep that night, he stares out the window and names the star Taylor.