“You?” I blurt, cheesecake forgotten.
“Yeah,” he says, laughing softly. “It was my turn in the kitchen rotation. They split us into groups, and we had to come up with a meal for everyone. So... pasta night.”
“Define pasta,” Maggie deadpans, eyes still on the TV but clearly listening.
“Real pasta,” Vincent insists. “Onions, garlic, the whole deal. No jarred sauce.”
“You chopped onions?” Aurora chuckles.
“I cried so hard I thought about pressing charges,” he jokes, and all of us crack up.
Holly clutches her chest dramatically. “Ladies, this is turning him into husband material. I can’t wait to meet you, dude.”
“Shut up!” I squeak, laughing too hard.
Maggie finally glances up, smirking faintly. “When you come back, we expect gifts. No excuses.”
“Gifts?” Vincent echoes.
“Yes,” Maggie says, her tone unshakable. “Souvenirs. Aurora wants a snow globe, Holly wants candy, and I want... something not boring. Surprise me.”
His laugh spills through the speaker, filling the whole room. For a moment, it’s like he’s right here with us—his crooked grin, messy hair, the way he drums his fingers against his knees.
We stay like that for over an hour. The girls keep firing questions at him like it’s a chaotic talk show. Holly grills him on his “friends” like she’s auditioning for a gossip column:Who’s the funniest? Who snores the loudest? Did anyone cry at group today?Vincent answers every single one, half-laughing, half-groaning, but never annoyed.
Aurora takes her role as “mom friend” very seriously, asking about his sleep schedule, his therapy sessions, even whether he’s remembering to journal. He answers her with a mix of honesty and teasing.
Maggie barely says anything, but when she does, it’s always short and cutting—like when Vincent admits he burnt garlic bread and she mutters, “Amateur.”
He only laughs and says, “I deserved that.”
And me? I just sit there, smiling so much my face aches, watching this wild, beautiful scene unfold. My boyfriend is athousand miles away in a place I wish he didn’t need to be, but he’s still here—laughing, teasing, weaving himself into this messy little family of mine. And the girls... they’re not just tolerating him. They’re claiming him. As if they’ve decided, without saying a word, that Vincent Cooper belongs to them too.
And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to fix me. Even with him far away, with all of us scattered in different ways, it already feels like we’re whole.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Vincent Cooper
PRESENT (2024)
“I think a guitar solo is how my emotion is most freely released, because verbal articulation isn’t my strongest communication strength.”
David Gilmour
“How did it go today? Any news about Asher?” I ask, leaning back against the headboard with my laptop balanced on my knees.
Nova sits cross-legged on her bed, brushing her damp hair with slow, distracted strokes. The ends drip onto herDraculauraT-shirt, leaving dark spots that spread across the cotton.
She’d actually made a whole set of them for the girls. Cleo De Nile for Maggie, Lagoona Blue for Aurora, and Clawdeen Wolf for Holly.
Her shoulders slump as she shakes her head. “Nothing. Zero. But Sam had an idea—he thinks we might be able to track them down through the transfers I made to my mom. The problem is...every withdrawal happened in a different city in California. Like she’s moving around on purpose. And I think she changed her number after that one phone call with Asher.”
The frustration in her voice makes my chest ache. I let out a sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “Don’t give up, baby. Please. You know we’ll find him eventually.”
She sets the brush on the nightstand and pulls her knees up, hugging them close. Her laptop rests open in front of her, its glow catching on the baby flowers lined along her window sill. I can see how tired she looks, shadows under her eyes, but even like this, even when she’s worn down, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Even if we did,” she whispers, “I don’t know if he’d even want to talk to me. He was so angry. And I don’t get it—I don’t understand why he hates you so much. I don’t know what my mom told him, but whatever it was... it poisoned everything. I don’t understand why she won’t just let you be.”
