The next few days will be full of reschedules, adjustments, and more things than I can name, but it feels less terrifying knowing he’s right here.
One thought takes up residence at the front of my brain.
What does one wear to a fake elopement?
And what do you do with the part of you that’s already calling it real?
nineteen
CHLOE
“This house islike a castle in the woods,” Phoebe breathes, towing her purple suitcase and a flurry of favorite things.
Her favorite blanket and stuffed unicorn are in one hand, her favorite doll in the other. She’s a princess-doll look-alike, with chestnut hair just like hers, and a button nose. Phoebe named her Mia, and she still loves it when I buy them matching clothes.
But for how much longer?
“It’s pretty big,” I say, watching her eyes go wide.
New house. New rhythm.
A man I’ll be calling my husband in only a couple of days.
Aiden and I picked up another load of things from the apartment before we picked Phoebe up from school, and if she had questions, her excitement swallowed them whole—I think she’s eager for this new start. I still owe him an apology for the number of times we listened to “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” on the way here.
But deep down, I’m grateful she still loves Disney soundtracks over regular pop music. I hope she holds onto childhood as long as she can.
“Want to explore?” Aiden asks, reaching for Phoebe’s things.
“Can I?” Phoebe tilts her face up, hopeful.
“Sure. But you have to bundle up if you’re going outside,” I tell her.
She drops everything so fast that Aiden has to catch it, and we both laugh. Her footsteps drum up the stairs, so I guess she’ll leave exploring farm life to later.
“Do you really understand what you’ve agreed to?” I ask him quietly. Again. “There’s still time to hit reverse on this whole thing. Parenting is…a lot.” I need to know he truly wants this, not just for me, but for Phoebe too.
I flinch. We aren’t even married yet, and I’m saying “parenting” like it’s a done deal.
“It’s a little late. Did you not see the look on her face? Better than the cookies.”He’s so close his breath whispers against my neck, and shivers skitter along my skin.
It shouldn’t feelthisreal.
The last twenty-four hours shouldn’t have me fantasizing about lazy evenings in front of the fire with Aiden. Dinner around the table—even with Evie. I’ll thaw her eventually. Baking cookies with Phoebe in thatmassivekitchen. Loud Christmas mornings with children running around.
Like the one currently galloping overhead.
“Where’s all the Christmas stuff?” Phoebe calls from the landing that overlooks the living room.
I shudder as she rocks on the railing on her belly. This child isn’t afraid of anything.
“Phoebe, please don’t lean over like that,” I warn.
“See? Already a princess in her castle,” Aiden chuckles.
“I’m sorry,” I utter under my breath to Aiden, angling my gaze to his. “We usually have Christmas out by now. Stretch the season as far as it’ll go.”
We’re shoulder to shoulder, so he gives me a slight bump. “No harm, no foul.”
