“Your dad is technically part of my family now, too,” he says. “Becauseyouare. I’ll be okay. But more importantly, I want you to be.”
His words shouldn’t feel like relief, but they do.
“Okay,” I whisper. And it comes out like a surrender—letting him love me out loud, with zero expectations.
I flatten my palm against his chest, anchoring myself to his steady heartbeat, and let myself sit in the moment.
Aiden’s offer doesn’t feel like a rescue. He’s not trying to swoop in and save me from anything. But he is standing beside me, so I don’t have to stand alone.
And that’s what I hold tight to when everything else feels shaky.
“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” I repeat.
“I know,” he says. “And that’s okay.”
“It’s scary,” I admit quietly, “I didn’t offer to go because I felt like I had to. I’m going because I want to be there, because I need to see him with my own eyes. That’s new for me.”
His thumb brushes my jaw, slow and steady. “Then we’re doing this right, Chlo. We just keep following this road.”
I nod, swallowing past the knot in my throat.
“We still need to talk about the will.”
When I look into his eyes again, all the uncertainty I thought I saw earlier is gone. Now all I see is him.
“This first. We’ll have time for the rest.”
“Okay,” I say again—steadier this time.
And I don’t miss the gravity of how much shifted in a fraction of time, or how I’m still standing.
* * *
The house feels different once the decision is made.
Not heavier—just alert, like the farm has registered a detour.
Phoebe is in the living room with Owen, wrapped in her favorite purple blanket and watchingBluey, her socked feet tucked against his thigh like he’s always been a part of her life. Not just for the last six weeks.
When I wished for this life, I never thought beyond the type of man I wanted to spend it with, or who would help me raise her.
But as I watch them from the kitchen, watching the easy way they fit—his burly stature curled around her tiny one, I have to remind myself this isn’t a loss.
We’ll be back. It’s just a hiccup.
My nervous system is struggling to make sense of this, though. It’s screaming, like if we walk out that door, everything will change again. Even though Aiden is walking through it with us.
I draw in a breath, count to five, then release it.
We just reached a bypass and need to follow it back.
I slip away to our room and start prepping a bag. It’s hard to believe how much life has happened since the last time I packed, but it’s different this time.
There are still unanswered questions, and life feels shaky. But instead of reaching for solutions, I just focus on this one task. My body moves with one purpose: grabbing lots of layers because Texas is so moody, and figuring out how to fit it all into a carry-on so we don’t have to add the headache of checked luggage.
The first flight out isn’t until morning since we’re right around New Year’s. Which means, for a few hours, we’re stuck in the in-between where we’re ready to walk out the door, but we’re waiting on answers.
Aiden doesn’t trail me from room to room. He doesn’t hover. He just… handles things.
