I nod, letting it go. Rosie’s always been more private than me, especially when it comes to work which is what I assume that call was about. I’ve learned not to push when she’s got that faraway look in her eyes, the one that usually means she’s somewhere between shutting down emotionally and burning her whole life to the ground.
We may be from completely different families, with different upbringings, but having married her brother, I now understand better the pressure that they are under as entertainment lawyers working for their father's firm.
The Prescott’s are guarded, and I can’t blame them. If I’d grown up under Maxwell Prescott’s brand of perfectionism, I’d probably be built from walls and sharp corners too.
But my parents were soft, kind, emotionally in-tune to their children. And despite being taken much too soon, I have always strived to carry those attributes forward.
“Is this the last of the boxes?” I twist side to side, stretching my sore back. My body is reminding me that I’m not as invincible as I used to be and the weight that I'm putting on is starting to settle in.
Rosie chews on her bottom lip again, glancing around her living room. We only carried in five boxes, so there’s no way this is all of it, but she insisted that was all she needed for now.
Ever since she bought her home in Brookhaven eight months ago, she’s been spending more weekends out here by the lake with us. Still, the house doesn’t feel lived in. It's more like a place she’s visiting, not settling into, and I can't tell whether that's because she's torn between her two lives or if she's struggling to find her place.
I like Rosie. And now that she’s officially my sister-in-law, I love her even more for the way she’s slowly letting me in.
“That’s it for now,” she says finally.
I look around at the mostly empty home. The last owner’s tattered couch still in the corner, the too-loved thrift-store chair we brought mostly because she felt sorry for it.
It’s summer again, which means tourist season in Brookhaven: city people coming in for lake days, loud laughter drifting from docks, boats buzzing across the water and lots of time spent outdoors.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t translated into more business for our thrift store. With every slow week we have, the knot in my chest tightens. And I’m terrified that this might be the last summer we can keep the doors open.
I haven’t told Cain that. Or Rosie. That's a problem for me and Gabriel to work out.
“Can I help you unpack these things?” I ask her.
She opens one of the boxes and pulls out a stack of plates. “No, you should rest. Want me to make you something to eat?”
I shake my head. “Ever since I hit the second trimester, I’ve got my energy back. I can help.”
She smiles shyly. "Okay."
We fall into an easy rhythm, unpacking side by side, me mostly carrying the conversation as I chatter about the nursery that Eden's helping me design in our home and the baby shower that I still need to plan with my cousin.
The boxes are mostly filled with kitchen basics, plates, cups, a few utensils she ordered online and had shipped to the city before bringing them out here so it’s all light and easy work.
We put everything away, wipe down the counters and straighten the thrifted table and chairs we dragged over earlier. Rosie’s been more than generous about furnishing her place with finds from the shop.
It’s different from her sleek apartment in the city which looks a lot like Cains, but it's starting to fit her, and I can tell themismatched, patchwork of decorations is causing the tension to ease in her shoulders and heart.
“Have I told you lately how much we love having you live close by?” I ask, stacking plates in the cupboard.
She smiles and tucks a strand of dark-blonde hair behind her ear. “I hope it’s not too much. I know I'm over there a lot on the weekends when I’m in town.”
“Are you kidding me? We love it. And once this little one’s here soon, we’ll need their Aunt Rosie around all the time.”
Her smile softens, but there’s a flicker of something else, doubt, maybe.
“I’d love that. Though I’m not sure how much time I’ll have with everything going on at the firm. I have to keep my apartment in the city, unfortunately.”
“Your dad’s still pushing for you to make partner?”
She nods, biting her lip again. “Yeah. And honestly, it’s what I want too. It’s not like I have anything else going on, and it’d be kind of incredible to be the youngest partner in the firm’s history. I've spent my whole life building my career. I think I'm ready for it.”
I reach out and squeeze her arm gently. "If it's what you want, then you'll get it. You’ve got that Prescott grit. Now come on, let’s go back to my place and eat before I pass out.”
She laughs, the tension in her shoulders easing. We load up the car with the empty boxes and make the short drive around the lake, sunlight slipping low behind the trees and reflecting off the dark water.
