When we finally head back down the path, I feel lighter, like something in me finally eased.
By the time Dad and David drop me back at the duplex, the air feels softer. Declan’s truck is already out front.
When I walk in, the counters are covered in newspaper and half-wrapped mugs. Declan is carefully packing dishes while Sophie’s labeling boxes with my sharpie in handwriting twice the size of mine.
I stop in the doorway for a second, just taking it in. Sophie’s messy ponytail, Declan’s steady hands, sunlight catching the curve of his smile. For a heartbeat, I just watch.
“Hey,” I say, kicking off my shoes. “How’s the operation?”
“Messy,” Sophie says proudly. “But efficient.”
Declan grins up at me from where he’s crouched. “You’re looking at our quality control manager.”
“I can see that.” I lean down to kiss his cheek, the faint smell of cardboard and coffee clinging to him.
“Did you have a good afternoon?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning against the counter. “It was… a lot, but good. Really good.”
He studies me for a beat, then just nods. “You hungry? Sophie’s been campaigning for Thai.”
“Starving,” I admit with a smile.
Sophie pops up from the floor, eyes bright. “Pad thai! And those dumplings!”
Declan laughs, shaking his head. “I already ordered. It should be here any minute.”
We spread dinner out on the kitchen table, the same one already half-surrounded by boxes. Sophie insists on using chopsticks while Declan keeps stealing bites from my noodles. It’s easy, warm, and ordinary in a way that feels extraordinary lately.
After dinner, Declan and Sophie stack a few boxes before Declan announces, “Alright, kiddo. Time to get ready for your sleepover. Maya’s expecting you.”
She shrugs, then steps in for a quick hug. “See you when you get back.”
“Can’t wait,” I tell her as she heads out.
Declan leans in, kisses me once, soft and steady.
“Love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
The warmth in his voice sinks deep, quiet and certain.
“Love you, too,” I whisper, smiling.
He squeezes my hand and follows her out to drop her off.
When the door closes, the house goes still again. Most of the boxes are half-full or waiting—just enough progress to make it feel real without emptying the place completely.
I move through the quiet, turning off lights one by one. I keep picturing the twins, wondering what life will look like when they’re here.
I set my hand on my belly and smile. “We’re really doing this,” I whisper.
Tomorrow we’ll fly to New York. There’ll be noise and cameras and pressure, all of it big and bright. But tonight, it’s just this—quiet and full.
As the darkness settles around me, I imagine my mom and smile.
I think she’d say this is exactly where I was meant to be.
Chapter Forty-Six
