A realization locks into place: this is what balance looks like. Two worlds co-existing as one. My family is still here, and now Chloe is, too.
Somehow, that makes the future feel less like something I have to survive.
thirty-two
AIDEN
Chloe’s alreadyon her second mug of coffee, fingers wrapped tight around the ceramic like it’s holding her upright.
I understand the sentiment. I told her when she moved in, it’s the only way we function around here. But the shadows under her eyes suggest she didn’t sleep much last night, if at all.
I’d know if she’d come to bed last night—except we spent one last night apart. Now I wish we hadn’t, so I could’ve convinced her to sleep.
She’s already checked the kitchen twice, straightened the throw pillows that didn’t need it, and repositioned the small wooden reindeer by the door so it faces forward instead of slightly left. I caught her this mounting whisper-counting under her breath while setting the table, like if she gets everything right, nothing can go wrong.
Elsa, the elf, is perched on the curtain rod, moved from her parachute jump off the overlook the night before. Chloe must’ve moved her after midnight, despite how exhausted she must havebeen. It’s the sort of thing you keep up with when you’re trying to be perfect for everyone.
The doorbell rings, and she startles, coffee sloshing out of her mug.
“I’ve got it,” I tell her, grabbing a roll of paper towels and wiping them up.
I practically have to pry the mug from her hands.
Chloe barely gets the front door open before an eight-year-old blurs past us.
“Mimi!”
Phoebe launches herself into her grandparents’ arms, where they stand. Bags thud to the boards as they fold her up, and something pinches in my chest while I watch.
A chorus of “We’ve missed you” and “Look how much you’ve grown” echoes in the small space, and it all becomes very real.
Chloe has been worried about how they’ll take all this. I’ve been worried about being around them at all.
I didn’t expect to be thrown back intofamily modeso quickly after pitching a fake marriage—especially not with her parents on the porch today and her brothers arriving tomorrow, loud and opinionated (according to Chloe), and probably impossible to distract with unicorn décor.
Not that it will stop Phoebe from trying.
Customers on the farm are one thing. Chloe’s parents, after two years without my own, are another.
Two years without daily check-ins. Without someone packing lunches “just in case”. Without being scolded for doing the dishes wrong, only to have them redone quietly anyway.
Being surrounded by a whole family makes the quiet places in me ache in ways I didn’t know were still tender.
And what’s worse? They probably remember me as the kid who broke their daughter’s heart. They’re not going to be thrilled we “ran off” and got married.
We’ll never tell how fast itactuallyhappened.
“Let me get those bags for you, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks.” I give them the warmest smile I can muster and bend for the luggage.
Her dad stops me with an outstretched hand. “Thanks, Aiden. Farm’s looking good.”
I stand and take it, only for him to squeeze it like he means to test bone density.
Yep. He remembers me.
I don’t flex my fingers when we let go. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I lean down, snag the bags, and keep my expression smooth.
“Mom, Dad—uh, not sure if you remember Aiden.” Chloe’s smile is tight, and I’d laugh if I didn’t think her father might smother me with a pillow at 2 a.m.
