He wouldn’t mind at all. But I don’t want to disappoint him, either.
I let out a frustrated grunt, then my fingers are flying across the keys as I hurriedly walk to the front door. She’s still standing on the curb when I burst out the front door.
She turns, then offers me a genuine smile that’s not toughened by the years between our friendship.
And suddenly, all the doubt in my mind quiets. We’re all on the same team here, and Aiden will completely understand.
I send the last text as I climb into the rideshare with her, and my heart is lighter than it’s been in years.
I’m going shopping with Evelyn before we go to the festival in a couple of hours.
I love you.
I’m telling your brothers on you.
They’ll probably just say “about time.”
And I think I have to agree.
forty-eight
AIDEN
I getthat Chloe and I haven’t even quite made it to the two-month mark of this marriage yet, but I think I’ve gleaned more about who she is in that short time than I could’ve in a year of dating.
Maybe it’s the close proximity of living life beside each other every day, but I think the quiet ways we recognize the hurts we both carry and then sit with them together have a lot to do with it, too. The way her fingers find mine without looking for them anymore.
And maybe that’s why I recognize the difference between the woman who showed up on a class field trip and the one laughing with my sister so easily.
No one else seems to be clocking it, though.
Except for Phoebe, who’s told me no less than ten times how amazing today was. We spent a long afternoon at Ever After Farms grazing on foods I wish I could ship back home, and I quietly watched my wife test life experiences, as though they might jump out and bite her.
When Chloe told me this morning that she needed to know who she was, I figured this would be a long series of self-reflection activities. That’s normally how she approaches things.
Instead, it’s like she’s determined to see how many answers she can give herself before the year turns.
When we first arrived at the farm, we wandered into a new addition that both Phoebe and Chloe were excited to check out. The Storybook Café is a little building that’s part eatery, part bookshop—exactly what you’d expect it to be—and one of Phoebe’s favorite places on Earth.
We’ll see how she feels by next week, when the novelty wears off.
Chloe walked through the bookshop side, trailing her fingers over books, like she was reconnecting with a piece of herself. But she wouldn’t buy anything.
On the way to the car, she’d hesitated—twice—before asking if we could stop back by. And then she’d walked out with two new books and a face-splitting grin.
When I’d asked what she planned to do with them, she told me she’d texted Abby and had finally joined her book club back home. Apparently, Harper and Madison are part of it, too.
I don’t know anything about book clubs, but I know my wife, and that’s bold. It’s about time she opens the gate to her self-imposed cell and lets herself live.
By the time we pull back into her parents' drive, she’s almost excited about the festival Evelyn insisted on. I’ve seen more glimpses of the Chloe I fell for—fast and hard—back in college today than I have in our whole marriage.
I love the woman she’s evolved into more than I could express, but she’s kept this one under lock and key for so long, it’s like watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon.
I’m so proud of her I could burst, but I know my stamp of approval is the opposite of what she needs.
And apparently I’m not the only one, because Evie is wound tighter than a watch spring. She keeps walking out of the hallway that leads to most of the bedrooms and pacing, muttering something about “Operation Make-Sure-Mommy-Knows-She’s-Beautiful” before she returns to wherever they’re getting ready.
It makes sense when Phoebe tears around the corner, sporting a sparkly tulle skirt, a tee with a lightning bolt over a bright pink heart, and a denim jacket covered in patches.
