“But,” she continues, “the kids did.”
Jake freezes, and Charlie smiles wide, gently ushering Noah and Meadow up from their respective spots in the crowd and onto the ledge beside her. Noah’s pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and Meadow fidgets with excitement.
“Okay, guys,” Charlie whispers, handing over the mic. “Take it away.”
Noah clears his throat. “We made a list.”
Meadow bounces, leaning in until her lips touch the mic, her voice booming loud and muffled out of the speakers. “Of all the reasons we love Jake!”
There are already sniffles, and I watch as Chase mutters something into Zoe’s ear. Her eyes shine, and she swats him lightly with her clutch.
Meadow reads first, holding the paper close to her nose. “He makes the best pink pancakes. Even better than Mama.”
Charlie softly gasps as the crowd chuckles. “Traitor.”
“He lets us watch hockey at bedtime,” Noah says. “Especially if he’s playing. And he always helps with my homework even when it’s hard.”
Meadow snatches the mic back. “He came to my ballet show even though he had a game that night!” Her voice wobbles near the end as she looks at him, but she holds it together. “I smiled the biggest I could just for him.”
“And we’re really glad you love our mum,” finishes Noah quietly. “Because we love you, too.”
By the time they’re done, there’s not a dry eye in the house. Jake is standing frozen, blinking hard as tears fall fast.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to. It’s written all over his face.
Charlie holds a hand out to him, and he moves quickly to join them on the ledge, pulling her and the kids into a giant embrace with murmured words meant only for the four of them.
I glance away, throat tight, and carefully take a long pull from my drink with my free hand. Even Viktor looks like he’s reconsidering everything he’s ever said about emotional expression.
The applause breaks the spell, and the music picks up again. Guests start drifting back into conversation, but the emotional haze lingers.
I gingerly stand up and pass a sleeping Theo off to Jake somewhere in the commotion, then slip out into the parking lot through the back patio exit, the night air biting at my skin.
The door of my SUV swings shut behind me, muffling the laughter and music into something soft and distant.
It’s not jealousy, not really. It’s not sadness either. It’s just the quiet ache that comes when you realize everyone else is building something. Jake has. Charlie has. Logan and Lulu are halfway there. Even Chase and Zoe are tangled in something that looks a hell of a lot like forever.
But me?
I’ve just been passing through everyone else’s lives. Long enough to be part of the noise, but not long enough to be missed if I left.
My head tips back against the headrest, and my eyes trace the pattern of the string lights in the courtyard through the windshield, breath fogging the glass faintly.
I don’t know what my version of forever is. But for the first time in a long time, I wonder what it might be like to have someone worth trying it with.
Chapter eight
You’re thinking too hard again, kid
Reid
The driveway crunches under my tires as I pull up outside Grandpa Harry’s place just after noon, easing the truck into the same stretch of curb I’ve been parking in since I was old enough to drive.
The house looks exactly as it always has. Pale siding softened by time, two steps up to a porch that creaks like it’s in pain, windows that fog on the inside when it gets too cold. The railing has been freshly painted, but not fussed over. Modest and lived-in.
Not like my place up on the hill with its flat edges and glass and walls too quiet for their own good.
This house has always been alive. There’s something about it that just breathes, even when the rest of the world goes still.
