“Thank you for asking.” She’s laughing and crying at the same time, clutching my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “Even without the bullet points.”
“I can still show you the bullet points. I have them saved?—”
She kisses me again, which is becoming her preferred method of shutting me up. I’m very OK with this.
After twenty minutes filled with congratulations, photos, and social media announcements, Audrey’s brothers announce that the fireworks are ready. We all gather around and watch the chaotic, beautiful display that Mike orchestrates with surprising competence, while Tony provides color commentary and Chris keeps running back to refill the cooler.
Audrey is tucked against my side, her left hand catching the light every time a new burst illuminates the sky. We’re surrounded by our people—Layla crying happy tears into Bennett’s shoulder, Serena and Caleb slow-dancing even though there’s no music, David watching Michaela wave her finally lit sparkler with the fond exhaustion of single fatherhood.
It’s perfect. It’s everything I never knew I wanted.
Which is, of course, when my parents appear.
I spot them first—two figures walking up from the driveway, their postures unmistakable even in the dim light. My mother’s careful stride. My father’s rigid shoulders. They’re dressed like they’re attending a board meeting, not a Fourth of July party,and they stop at the edge of the deck like they’re not sure they’re allowed to come closer.
Audrey feels me tense. “What is it?”
“My parents.”
She follows my gaze, and I feel her hand tighten on mine. “Do you want me to?—”
“No. Stay.” I press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll handle it.”
I walk toward them, aware that the group has noticed, that conversations are trailing off. Dominic moves slightly closer, preparing to intervene. David’s expression has gone carefully neutral.
My mother speaks first. “Logan. We heard about the engagement.”
“News travels fast.”
“We live in the age of social media. Dominic posted pictures of the party, and Audrey, well. We saw the ring, and we thought—” She stops, uncharacteristically uncertain. “We wanted to offer our congratulations. In person.”
My father clears his throat. “What your mother is trying to say is that we’d like to make amends. The dinner—the things that were said—” He looks like the words are costing him something. “We could have handled it better.”
A year ago, this would have undone me. I would have fallen over myself to accept their olive branch, desperate for any scrap of approval. I would have convinced myself that this was enough, that I should be grateful, that family means forgiving everything, no matter the cost.
But I’m not that person anymore.
“I appreciate you coming,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that I mean it. “And I appreciate the effort. I do.”
My mother’s face brightens. “Then you’ll?—”
“But I hope you’ll forgive me for not immediately rushing in with declarations of reconciliation.” I keep my voice steady. Kindbut firm. “Too much has happened for too long. The way you’ve treated me—the way you treated Audrey—that doesn’t disappear because you showed up to a party.”
My father’s jaw tightens. My mother’s smile falters.
“If you genuinely want to rebuild something, I’m open to that. But it’s going to take time. Real time, with real effort, not just a single conversation when it’s convenient for you.” I take a breath. “You’re welcome to stay for the fireworks. Have some food, meet Audrey’s family. But for tonight, I’d like to spend time with my fiancée. We can talk more later.”
The silence stretches. I wait for the explosion—the cold dismissal, the wounded retreat, the cutting remark that lets me know I’ve overstepped.
Instead, my mother nods slowly. “That’s... fair.”
My father looks like he wants to argue, but something in my expression must stop him. “We’ll stay for a bit. If that’s acceptable.”
“It is.”
I turn and walk back to Audrey, who’s watching me with an expression somewhere between pride and concern. When I reach her, she takes my hand and squeezes.
“You OK?”
