Ansel, for once, doesn’t crack a joke. She just tilts her head, watching me like she’s waiting for me to admit what she already knows.
And in the corner, Bennett rocks slow and steady, whispering something to Sage we can’t hear. His presence fills the room without demanding it, like an anchor.
I let out a shaky breath, the words catching before they escape. “It is real.” I don’t mean to say it aloud. But the moment it’s there, hanging between us, I don’t take it back.
The silence stretches, thick with things unsaid. Bennette shifts Sage carefully in his arms, murmuring something low that makes her tiny fingers curl into his shirt.
Ansel leans forward, but her eyes are sharp as glass. “Stel, I’ve seen you half-alive and going through the motions. And I’ve seen you lit up like you were carved out of fire. Guess which one you look like now.”
Heat flares in my chest, equal parts fear and something dangerously close to hope.
Ansel leans back in her chair, eyes sharper than her grin. “Don’t run from it, Stella. Not this time. You deserve something that doesn’t break you.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. My throat tightens, my vision goes blurry for a beat, and suddenly I can’t stay in this room with all of them watching me come apart.
“I need a minute,” I murmur, already pushing to my feet. Blythe gives me a knowing look, soft but steady, and nods.
Out in the quiet hallway, I press my back to the wall, my phone heavy in my hand. My thumb hovers only a second before I hit her name.
Elaine answers on the first ring. “Stella?” Her voice is low, wary, but the sound of it softens something jagged in me.
I swallow, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “I don’t want half of this. I don’t want stolen moments, secrets, or pretending we don’t know what this is. I want it all, Elaine.I want you.I want the nights where we can’t stop kissing and the mornings where you’re the first thing I see. I want the fights that will cut deep, the silences that will scare me, and the messy, terrifying truth of it all. I want every piece of you, even the ones you think I’ll run from. Especially those.”
There’s silence on the line—sharp, aching—but I don’t back down. My chest is tight, words clawing their way out. “I’m scared as hell, Elaine. But the thought of not having you? That’s worse. I can live with the fear. I can’t live without you.”
For a heartbeat, all I hear is her breathing. Then, so soft it scrapes at my chest: “Stella. Say it again.”
My eyes close, and for the first time, I let it be simple. “I want you.”
Her exhale cracks, like she’s been holding it forever. “Then you’ve got me.”
I slide down the wall, knees weak, phone pressed to my ear, and for once—no doubts, no ghosts, no lies—just truth.
Stella
The kitchen smells like roasted chicken and fresh bread, the kind of comfort food that feels right for a welcome home. Elaine is on her tippy toes, taping the edge of a paper banner that readsWelcome Home, Sagein Ansel’s over-the-top bubble letters. I’m holding the other side, our hands brushing just enough to make my stomach flip.
“Hold it tighter,” she says, not looking down, though her lips twitch like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“You’re bossy,” I murmur.
“And you like it.” Her voice is low, private, for me alone.
The heat between us is interrupted when the front door bangs open. Ansel breezes in with a bag of balloons, nearly tripping over her own boots. “I swear if this kid doesn’t grow up calling me Auntie Ansel, I’m suing.”
“On what grounds?” Elaine asks, straightening, amused.
“Emotional distress,” Ansel fires back instantly, dumping balloons onto the couch.
Behind her, Mac follows with a case of soda balanced on one arm. “The only one in distress is me. You’ve been talking my ear off since the grocery store.”
“You’re welcome,” Ansel singsongs, sticking her tongue out at him.
Theo trails in last, tie still knotted tight even on a Saturday, a faint edge to his smile. “You two arguing again? Imagine my shock.” He sets down a bottle of wine with a little too much precision. Then, with a pointed glance at Ansel, “Some people never grow out of high school antics.”
Ansel bristles, muttering something under her breath, but Elaine leans casually against the counter, watching the whole exchange like she’s already been folded into the rhythm of us.
By the time Blythe arrives with Sage in her arms, the house is alive with voices and warmth. Bennette comes too, awkward but careful, carrying a stack of casseroles he swears he didn’t make. He hovers close to Blythe without being obvious, his big frame gently around her and the baby.
