What followed defied logic. He rolled. Flopped. Twisted and thrashed like a tragic sea creature mid-rescue attempt, his apron flaring out with every flop.
“A beached seal!” Mia shrieked, nearly doubled over.
“A breakdancing caterpillar!” Penny gasped between wheezes.
Arden pressed her lips together, trying and failing, to stay composed.
Then Robert flopped to one side, gasping like a dying fish?—
And her laughter broke free.
Pure. Uncontrolled. Real.
“A whale trying to escape?” she guessed, hesitant but hopeful.
Robert popped up, triumphant. “Exactly! See? She gets me!”
Penny slung an arm around her shoulders.
“Told you,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You’re already one of us.”
The words hit somewhere deep. Somewhere Arden hadn’t let anyone touch in years.
The game carried on, each round more ridiculous than the last.
Lillian’s “pirate searching for love in a library” left them breathless.
Robert’s “tap-dancing giraffe” made Penny cry-laugh, her head tipped back, tears streaking down her cheeks.
And when Penny pantomimed “a dog auditioning for a reality show,” Arden lost it.
She laughed—reallylaughed. The kind that knocked the air out of her. That left her shoulders shaking and her hand pressed to her side. She couldn’t remember the last time it had come that easily.
Or hit that deep.
The room didn’t quiet. It held her.
Not like a blanket or some neat metaphor, but real, steady warmth. Familiar voices. Soft light. Someone tossing a cookie across the couch and missing.
It didn’t ask anything of her.
And for that moment, she stopped asking anything of herself.
Here, laughter wasn’t curated.
Here, joy didn’t have strings.
She had never known a family like this.
No masks.
No rules.
Only love. Messy, loud, and relentless.
She didn’t feel like an outsider.
She belonged.
