I close my eyes as a choked snort comes from somewhere behind me. Zoe’s face is buried in her hands. Chase is biting his knuckle, and Lulu is losing it in absolute silence.
Carina glances toward them and then the backyard, polite curiosity on her face. “The… weddings?”
“Out by the beehives,” Meadow adds, clearly warming to her theme. “That’s where we’ll do it.”
My soul has left my body.
Carina’s smile wobbles. “That sounds… festive.”
Meadow tilts her head at Carina. “Do you like flowers?”
“Yes,” Carina says carefully.
“Good,” Meadow replies. “’Cause you’ll be a flower bride!”
Jake puts his face in his hands.
“Meadow,” Charlie makes a strangled noise. “Let’s maybe let people eat before we start wedding planning.”
But Meadow continues, unstoppable now. “Uncle Hutchy will have to wear a suit, which he hates, but Zo Zo says he looks hot when he’s grumpy, so it’s fine.”
I curse the day Zoe Carlson ever spoke to this child.
Carina looks at me, her eyes bright and mouth curved.
“Mhmm,” she hums playfully. “I can see the vision.”
Meadow leans closer, dropping her voice like this is classified information. “Also, Theo would be the ring bear.”
Theo shifts again as he hears his name, one chubby hand fisting my shirt as he takes in the way his sister squints at Carina, then at me. Back and forth, until something clicks.
“Do you have a ring?”
I am actively dissolving.
The table goes dead quiet, and Jake very calmly reaches for a mimosa, like it might save him.
“Get her a big sparkly one.” Meadow points her finger at me. “Like Lulu’s princess one.”
“Jesus Christ,” Logan cries into his hands. “I love this kid.”
Charlie stares at the ceiling. “Meadow—”
“What?” Meadow asks, genuinely confused. “You can’t get married without a ring! It’s the rules!”
Carina presses her lips together, clearly fighting a laugh as she looks at me again. There’s humor there, mixed with zero panic, which somehow makes this worse.
“Well,” she says lightly, taking a sip of her tea, “I’m glad someone’s organized.”
Theo chooses that exact moment to reach out and rest a careful, chubby palm on her arm. She stills and gently turns toward him.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Hi, Theo.”
He leaves his hand there, and Carina doesn’t move it.
And I stand here in the middle of it all, watching the woman I’m obsessed with be gently claimed by my family—and a six-year-old with a wedding spreadsheet in her head.
***
