She should probably be at least a little hesitant. It would make sense, at least, if she were; this is a big deal, a major decision, and once done, there won't be any taking it back. Granted, her already being close to Jessica removes some of the potential complications there, since she isn't just handing Abigail over to a stranger, but it occurs to Molly as the lawyer pushes the papers over to her that there would be nothing unreasonable about reading some of this over again, about stopping to think before she puts the pen to the page and makes this official.
There have been months, though, for her to think about it, and she's done all the thinking on the matter she needs to, spent enough time in meetings here and reading over the documents that she knows there's nothing more that needs to be done. When she picks up the pen, then, she's nothing but calm and certain, carefully signing her name and breathing in deep as she does.
Nothing monumental happens. Time doesn't stop or stand still; she doesn't at once feel some heavy weight lifted off her shoulders. Jessica still needs to sign before this will be completely official anyway, but she's done her part, making a moment like this a hugely significant one. What she does feel is what she's felt all along — that this is the right decision for her and what's best for all involved parties, no immediate, instinctive regret. There's nothing here worth regretting. Even when she knows there are plenty of complications that may yet arise, that it's not a strictly conventional situation, though more common than some might expect, it all seems worth dealing with, at least on her end. She won't just be gone, and there will be plenty of time anyway before Abigail becomes aware of anything that she might want to ask about. It's all the more reason to do this now, while Abigail is still so young. Were she even a little older, it would probably be something more difficult, though still worthwhile and not impossible, at least from her standpoint, that they'd be dealing with.
Instead, they're here now, and as she straightens, she turns to Jessica, smiling faintly, nodding once. "Alright," she says. "Your turn."
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There have been months, though, for her to think about it, and she's done all the thinking on the matter she needs to, spent enough time in meetings here and reading over the documents that she knows there's nothing more that needs to be done. When she picks up the pen, then, she's nothing but calm and certain, carefully signing her name and breathing in deep as she does.
Nothing monumental happens. Time doesn't stop or stand still; she doesn't at once feel some heavy weight lifted off her shoulders. Jessica still needs to sign before this will be completely official anyway, but she's done her part, making a moment like this a hugely significant one. What she does feel is what she's felt all along — that this is the right decision for her and what's best for all involved parties, no immediate, instinctive regret. There's nothing here worth regretting. Even when she knows there are plenty of complications that may yet arise, that it's not a strictly conventional situation, though more common than some might expect, it all seems worth dealing with, at least on her end. She won't just be gone, and there will be plenty of time anyway before Abigail becomes aware of anything that she might want to ask about. It's all the more reason to do this now, while Abigail is still so young. Were she even a little older, it would probably be something more difficult, though still worthwhile and not impossible, at least from her standpoint, that they'd be dealing with.
Instead, they're here now, and as she straightens, she turns to Jessica, smiling faintly, nodding once. "Alright," she says. "Your turn."