At least not immediately.
Because everyone’s needs have been met, and I’ve never learned to function in that in-between.
Aiden proves my theory at least partially wrong when he finds me outside the laundry room, wringing my hands and simply existing.
“Hey,” he says softly. “What are you doing back here?”
I glance up at him, my teeth worrying my lip. How honest can I be? Do I sound ridiculous? I sort offeelridiculous.
“I’m not really sure what to do.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
“No.” I shake my head, then glance at the laundry room. “It’s just all…done. And Evie brought food. So I?—”
“Don’t know what to do,” he says, nodding as he echoes my words. “Let’s do a check-in then.”
He threads his hands into my hair, fingers curling softly at the nape of my neck, and tips my head back until my gazefinds his. His touch is steady, but firm, like he needs me to pay attention.
“A what?” I manage.
“We’re practicing. How do you feel right now?”
“Not great,” I say, my voice wobbling. “Invisible.”
He presses his thumbs into my neck. “Why?”
“Everything is done. I don’t?—.”
“I’m going to have Evie hop on Etsy and find you some art for your office that says ‘something snappy about productivity and love not being synonymous.”
I chuckle. “She’d do it, too.”
I close my eyes and let my body lead, his touch chasing away flutters of anxiety and exhaustion. The tension in my shoulders eases as my breath slows, and the non-stop internal competition in my brain starts to quiet.
I let my forehead rest against his chest, his warmth and familiar pine scent grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
He presses a kiss to my hair, letting it linger.
There’s a hint of more there, tugging me out of the narrow, exhausting version of myself I’ve been living in.
“If you need something to do,” he murmurs. “Can I make a suggestion?”
The sounds of overlapping voices and laughter drift from the other end of the house, proof that life still goes on whether I’m at the helm of the house or not.
And I can’t decide whether that’s comforting or terrifying.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Stay with me. Just…be present. That’s all I need from you.”
Aiden’s fingers curl and uncurl against my skin, moving to a rhythm all their own.
Things are already shifting again. Maybe it’s because of the season or how much we both carry, but it feels like things are always shifting.
My family will go back to Texas, and half the help will disappear. The noise will be quiet. And we’ll be back to navigating what life looks like, only in a less busy season.
The only thing that doesn’t seem to shift is my compulsive need to prove myself—to earn my place.
