A family.
Finally.
Chapter 24
Tessa
Valentine’s Day starts at 5:47 a.m. with me standing in the middle of the Honeyridge Falls Community Center, clipboard in hand, watching two volunteers argue about whether the balloon arch should go on the left or right side of the entrance.
“Left,” I say, for the third time. “The arch goes on the left because that’s where people will be taking photos, and the light from the windows hits better on that side in the evening.”
They both stare at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“It’s in the diagram,” I add, flipping my clipboard around to show them. “Section 3B. Balloon arch, left side, anchored to the floor with sandbags so it doesn’t tip when people bump into it.”
The community center is chaos. Beautiful, organized chaos—or at least it will be organized once everyone stops asking me questions and just follows the seventeen-page event guide I emailed them all last week.
“Tessa.”
I look up from my clipboard to find Bea Wilson standing in front of me with a thermos and a paper bag. She’s wearing a puffy jacket over what looks like pajamas, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a messy bun.
Wait. That’s not Bea. That’s her mother. Marie Wilson.
“Mrs. Wilson?”
“Call me Marie, honey. We’ve been over this.” She holds out the thermos. “You need to eat.”
“I had coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t food.”
“It’s a bean. Beans are food.”
She gives me the Mom Look. The one that says she’s raised two kids and has absolutely no patience for my nonsense.
“Sit,” she says, pointing to a folding chair. “Eat. The balloon arch will survive five minutes without your supervision.”
I want to argue. I have approximately nine hundred things to do. But Marie Wilson is a force of nature, and also she’s holding what smells like fresh pastries from Maeve’s, and my stomach chooses this exact moment to growl.
“Five minutes,” I say, and sit.
She hands me the thermos—hot chocolate, not coffee—and pulls a cinnamon roll out of the paper bag. Still warm.
“Ben said you’d be here before dawn,” Marie says, settling into the chair next to me. “He wanted to come earlier, but I told him to let you get the initial setup done first.”
I pause with the cinnamon roll halfway to my mouth. “You told him?”
“Someone has to manage that boy.” She pats my knee. “I’ve known him his whole life. He’s been distracted byyoufor years. It was only a matter of time before he did something about it.”
My face goes hot. “We’re not—I mean, we haven’t?—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Her voice is gentle. “I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re okay. This is a lot—the event, the boys, everything.”
I set down the cinnamon roll. “Are you here to give me the ‘don’t hurt my son’ talk?”
Marie laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. No. Ben’s a grown man. He can handle his own heart.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m here because I remember what it’s like. Being young and scared and suddenly realizing you might actually get the thing you want. It’s terrifying.”
My throat tightens. “It really is.”
