A/N1: 2016 is my year of finishing things I've started, and that includes some stories. This unfinished story was called "How I Met Your Father" but I've since adapted it and taken certain liberties with timelines. Coincidentally, this is the 38th story I have published. I hope you enjoy.
Summary: Thirty-eight was an important year for Miranda: she married James, was promoted to Editor-in-Chief, and gave birth to two perfect little angels. This is part 1 of 13.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Present day, June 2023 —
"Thank you again for letting me come stay here for the next two weeks, Mom," Cassidy said as she sank back into the couch. "I'll always miss the townhouse because we grew up there, but there's just something so relaxing about being out here in the Hamptons."
"Sweetheart, you do not have to thank me. You and Michael—and Maxwell, when he arrives—are always welcome here. To be perfectly honest, I'm glad you and I get to spend some time together before the baby comes—just the two of us," Miranda said.
"Oh Mom, don't get all sappy—that's Andy's job," she said with a giggle.
Miranda set a tray on the coffee table with a pitcher of lemonade, some crackers, and two glasses. She poured the drinks and handed Cassidy a glass before taking her own and sitting next to her on the couch.
"I have something I want to share with you," Miranda said. She bit her lip, awaiting Cassidy's reaction.
"You're nervous," Cassidy observed. "What is it?"
Miranda set her glass of lemonade on the table and walked over to the chest near the fireplace, pulling out a leather-bound journal. She returned to the couch and handed it to Cassidy. "My journal."
"I thought you used that Moleskine one that Andrea got you for your birthday?" she asked running her fingers along the leather and opening the cover. "Oh my god," she gasped. She quickly flipped to the last pages of the journal, then looked up and reached for her hand. "Mom—this is the journal."
"Yes," she said. "I know we've talked about the Runway stuff years ago, but there's a lot more in this journal. I started it just before I met your father, and once you and your sister were born, I just didn't have time to write anymore."
"So, the year you were pregnant—that's in here?"
"The good, the bad, and the ugly. All here," Miranda said. "I thought you might find comfort in it during the final month of your pregnancy."
Tears began to stream down Cassidy's cheeks.
"Sweetheart, it's okay," Miranda said, handing her a tissue as she kissed her on the forehead. "I cried a lot when I was pregnant, too."
Cassidy reached for her hand and squeezed. "Mom, will you read it to me?" she asked.
"Really?"
"Yes. Pretty please?" she asked. "You don't have to read every word—you can skip stuff. I just want to hear your voice right now. And," she paused, "can I lay my head in your lap?"
"Of course, darling. You just make yourself comfortable," Miranda said, gently running her fingers through her daughter's hair as she opened the journal.
TBC - Note: There are some scenes in present-day, and others are presented as a journal entry, followed by a scene. It's probably painful to read and jump around so much, so I apologize (but I'm not changing it). One of the things I struggle with most is perfectionism, and it probably sounds silly, but if left to my own devices, nothing would ever be finished because it's not perfect enough. I'm learning to live with words like suitable, satisfactory, and average, and I hope you can forgive me for knowingly submitting a mess of a story. xx