“You did,” I say, smiling.
Brynn presses a hand to her chest. “I’m going to cry. I knew he’d get it right, but wow.”
“I think it looks like it’s lived a couple of lives,” I say softly. “Cam said that’s why he chose it.”
Kinsey grins. “I’m happy you love it. He was so nervous.’”
Before either of them can say more, Evie pops up from the couch, climbing to her feet with Matilda tucked under her arm.
“I have something too!” she announces.
She shoves her wrist toward Brynn, the little silver bracelet sliding down her arm, the star charm flashing.
Brynn’s expression melts instantly. “Oh my God. Evie.”
Kinsey crouches down, smiling wide. “That one was non-negotiable,” she says proudly. “He picked it out himself.”
Evie nods seriously. “It’s my family bracelet.”
Brynn touches it gently. “That’s really special, sweetheart.”
Evie beams. “Cam said I’m part of the team.”
Kinsey looks up at me, eyes shiny. “When he picked out that bracelet is when I almost lost it in the jewelry store.”
My throat tightens before I can stop it. Evie plops back onto the couch, perfectly content, already reaching for her juice box as if she didn’t just emotionally undo three grown women.
Kinsey straightens and points at my ring. “For the record? It looks even better on your hand than it did in the box.”
Brynn nods. “I think we all knew Cam had it in him.”
I glance down at the ring, then back up at them. “He amazes me sometimes.”
Kinsey tosses a blanket onto the couch for Evie, who settles in with her stuffed dinosaur and a juice box, wholly absorbed as the opening credits of Moana flash across the screen.
Evie doesn’t even look up when Kinsey leans over the back of the couch and whispers, “If you need anything, scream. Preferably at a pitch that won’t shatter my windows.”
“Kinsey,” I groan.
“What?” she says, hands raised. “Your child has the vocal range of a fire alarm.”
Brynn laughs as she sets a tray of iced coffees on the coffee table. “She gets that from her mom. Kate once took out my eardrums in middle school when she shrieked because a grasshopper landed on her big toe.”
I lift my chin. “It was a very aggressive grasshopper.”
“It was an inch long,” Brynn fires back.
“It had an agenda.”
Kinsey snorts. “God, I missed this.”
I didn’t realize how much I needed this—my friends, a safe place, the kind of easy laughter that knocks the tension loose in my shoulders—until now. It’s been a heavy week, but the second I sit on Kinsey’s couch between the two of them, I feel myself soften a little, like their presence gives me permission to actually exhale.
Brynn nudges me gently. “Okay, something’s up. Spill.”
I pick at the sleeve of my cardigan. “Daniel came by last week.”
Kinsey stops mid-sip. “I’m sorry—what?”
