I feel like my heart might actually burst.
I look over at Theo, and he’s already watching me. His expression is soft in the flickering light of the television. He reaches across and takes my hand, squeezing gently, and Isqueeze back, trying to communicate everything I’m feeling without words.
A little while later, I glance down and realize Chloe’s eyes are closed, her breathing slow and even. She’s fast asleep, her small hand curled into the fabric of my sweater like she’s holding on even in her dreams.
I look up at Theo and point down at her, mouthingOh my godwith what I’m sure is the most ridiculous expression on my face. I’m having a full-on cuteness attack. He grins, clearly amused by my reaction.
My phone buzzes on the cushion beside me, and I glance over automatically. Sophie’s name lights up the screen. I tap to read the message, and my stomach drops.
Sophie:Sloane is pushing to remove us from the board entirely. Completely cutting us out because we, and I quote, “don’t care enough and aren’t actually involved.” Like what the hell?? We DO care, no one listens! Call me when you can.
I stare at the screen, reading it again. And again. The words don’t change.
Remove us from the board entirely.
My own sisters. My own family. Trying to cut me and Sophie out of the company our parents built. The company Mom stayed up late working on when we were kids, the company Dad talked about at every dinner table, the thing they poured everything into because they believed it could help children learn and grow.
And Sloane wants to take it from us because we “don’t care enough”?
I feel slightly sick.
“Everything okay?” Theo whispers.
I look up, forcing a smile, and nod. He gives me a questioning look, clearly not buying it, but I shake my head slightly.Later, the gesture says.Not now.
He accepts this, but I can tell he’s filing it away. I look back down at Chloe, still curled against me, still holding onto mysweater. I don’t want to think about my sisters right now. I don’t want to let that text ruin this moment, this perfect, impossible night where everything feels exactly right.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the movie still playing softly in the background, Chloe warm and heavy in my arms, even as Sophie’s text lingers in the back of my mind as a reminder that I can’t outrun my past forever.
CHAPTER 19
Theo
Sunday morning, and the house is quiet in a way it almost never is. Just me and Nala, curled up on the couch together, her purring softly against my leg while I sip my coffee and stare out at the water. The sun’s barely up, the sky still that pale grey-blue that comes before the real light hits, and everything feels peaceful in a way I’ve learned not to take for granted.
It’s been a great week. Better than great, actually. Now that Chloe knows Emma and I are dating, Emma’s been spending more time over here, and the house has felt alive in a way it hasn’t in years.
Her and Chloe doing crafts at the kitchen table, laughing so hard I can hear them from across the house. The three of us cooking dinner together, Chloe perched on her step stool stirring something while Emma sneaks bites and I pretend not to notice. Afternoons outside by the water, throwing the ball for Laila when Calvin and Maren bring her over, Chloe shrieking with joy while Emma cheers her on.
And then when Chloe’s in bed, Emma and I stay up talking for hours, curled up on this same couch, her legs draped overmine. I can’t get enough of her. Her zest for life, how infectious her passion is—whether she’s ranting about education reform, dissecting some reality TV show I’ve never heard of, or telling me about the book she’s reading. She makes everything interesting. And seeing her with Chloe, watching the two of them together, the easy way they love each other, it does something to me I can’t quite put into words.
It’s been the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
Last night we had dinner with my entire family so my brothers could officially meet Emma as my girlfriend. It went better than I could have hoped. Emma fit in like she’d always been there—laughing with Maren, charming Alex, holding her own against Dominic’s dry humor. Jack and Lark video-called from Monaco and immediately declared her “family approved,” which made Emma blush and Chloe beam with pride.
Chloe was thrilled to have her there, kept finding excuses to sit next to her, to touch her arm, to pull her into every conversation. At one point I looked across the table and saw Emma helping Chloe cut her steak while Maren told a story about her and Calvin’s recent trip to New York for their publishing deal, and something clicked into place in my chest. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what I’ve been missing.
Today Emma, Chloe, and Maren are at a local art class Maren’s been wanting to take Chloe to for months. Emma offered to tag along, and Chloe practically vibrated out of her skin with excitement at the idea of her two favorite people spending the day together. So I’ve got the house to myself for a few hours. I scratch behind Nala’s ears and she stretches, pressing her head into my hand.
The only shadow on an otherwise perfect week is that something’s clearly been bothering Emma. KidStream stuff—her sisters making moves, things escalating in ways she hasn’t fully explained. She told me she doesn’t want to talk about it yet, that she’s still processing, and I’m trying to give her space without pushing.
That’s one thing I’ve learned about Emma: she works through things internally first, sorts out her own feelings before she’s ready to share them. I can respect that. I just hope she knows she doesn’t have to carry it alone.
I drain the last of my coffee and set the mug down. Nala stretches luxuriously, then curls back into a tighter ball, settling in for her morning nap. I head outside to the shed.
The black walnut slab is under a tarp in the corner. I pull back the covering and run my hand over the surface, feeling the texture under my palm. I remember exactly what I wanted to create, a hand-carved bar for Harbor & Ash. Something unique. Something that would last for generations.
Emma told me I should pick it back up. And she’s right. Maybe life’s too short to let beautiful things sit in a garage collecting dust.
