"I am happy," I admit. "Which is terrifying because it's only been eight days and that's not enough time to—"
"To what? To feel something real?"
I tell her about breakfast with the Prescotts. About Eleanor's handshake and Milly'scourtingquestion and the way West's father asked about my business model with genuine interest instead of polite tolerance.
I give her the version that includes the bracelet but not the dented wall. The kiss but not the specific geography of where West's mouth was at three a.m. And the part where I missed him before I even left the island.
Some things are mine.
Grace listens with her chin propped on her fists, eyes bright.
"This is a Cinderella story," she says when I finish.
I take a second—actually think about it.
“There are similarities,” I concede. “But here’s where it ends.”
“Cinderella had two wicked stepsisters. I have you, and you are aggressively supportive.”
I tick off on my fingers, like I’m actually counting the differences.
“Cinderella had ashes and worked like a slave for her family.”
“You have invoices and a functioning business.” Grace adds and nods in agreement.
“Cinderella had a whole team of mice and birds doing her chores. I suppose, I had bridesmaids… who nearly set my scalp on fire.”
Grace snorts. “Honestly? Same energy.”
"And Cinderella waited to be rescued. I have a return ticket and a portable skill set."
"But you have a Prince Charming."
"West is not a prince."
"Six-four, NHL captain, billionaire family, gray-blue eyesthat I personally verified via your accidental we-fie lookextremelyprincely—"
"Alright, a hockey prince," I allow with a wink. "Who texts in complete sentences and uses punctuation."
"No glass slipper."
"Fancy bracelet." She points at my wrist. "With an engraving. That's better than a slipper."
I look down at it. The diamonds catching the kitchen light.Jan 24, 2026. Us.
I throw a pillow at her. She catches it. Holds it to her chest.
"I'm happy for you," she says. Simple. Honest. No jealousy, no but-what-about-me, no complicated sister math. Just clean pride in her eyes. "You've been taking care of everyone else for so long. You deserve someone who takes care of you."
"Don't make me cry. I've already exceeded my quarterly tear allowance today."
She laughs, and I laugh, and the radiator clanks, and for a moment the apartment feels exactly right.
Then someone knocks.
My pulse spikes.
A tiny, irrational flicker:West?
