Chapter One
Celeste
The house felt too quiet without the children. She could hear every breath Braden drew, every suppressed chuckle Jackson let out.
Celeste stood in the doorway of what used to be Braden's home office, watching him rifle through the filing cabinet with the methodical precision of a surgeon, which made sense, since that was exactly what he was. Jackson leaned against the far wall, scrolling through his phone with the easy patience of someone who'd already accepted he'd be here a while.
It was odd to have him in here, rummaging around again. Three months since the divorce papers were signed, and she still wasn't used to the silence coming from his former space.
“Found them.” Braden straightened, holding up a manila folder. “My old residency evaluations. Jackson's convinced I need them for the hospital's credentialing review.”
“They're extremely thorough,” Jackson said without looking up. “It's like joining the CIA, except with more paperwork and worse coffee.”
Celeste crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You could've just called. I would've left them on the porch.”
“And miss seeing your lovely face?” Braden grinned, that familiar good cheer crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Besides, we needed to grab the rest of the kitchen stuff. Jackson's determined to make our place feel like a home.”
Our place.The words shouldn't sting.
And they didn't, not really. Just a small tug somewhere behind her ribs that she'd gotten good at ignoring. She was happy for Braden. Truly happy. He deserved to be loved the way Jackson loved him: openly, fiercely, and without shame.
But watching them together was a reminder of everything she had given up before she'd ever really had it.
“The Le Creuset set is already boxed up in the garage,” she said. “I kept the cast iron skillet.”
“Deal. You always made better pancakes anyway.”
Jackson finally pocketed his phone and joined them, his hand finding the small of Braden's back with unconscious affection. The gesture was so natural, so easy. Celeste looked away, studying the cream-colored wall as if it held secrets.
It wasn't that she missed Braden romantically—she never had, not in that way. Their marriage had been built on friendship, not passion. An arrangement between two closeted people who met in college and understood each other perfectly.
The plan had seemed so simple back then: they'd give each other cover, create the life everyone expected of them and build a family together. It had worked beautifully for years. They'd found genuine happiness, the kind of happiness that came from deep companionship, if not romantic love.
Then Jackson had walked into Braden's life and everything had shifted.
She had seen it happening. The way Braden's face lit up when Jackson texted. The way he started humming whilemaking coffee. Then he'd looked at her one night over dinner and said, “I think I'm in love with him. Really in love. For the first time in my life.”
And Celeste had known their arrangement was over.
Braden had been terrified of losing his children, of hurting Celeste, of disappointing everyone. But Jackson had given him something she never could: the courage to live authentically, to step out of the constructed lie and into himself.
“How are the twins handling everything?” Jackson asked.
“They're good. Theo asked if you guys could come to his soccer game next week.”
Braden’s face softened the way it always did when they talked about the kids. “We'll be there. Wouldn't miss it.”
At least that hadn't changed. Braden was still an incredible father. The twins had two parents who loved them, who co-parented with the kind of ease most divorced couples could only dream of.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. Just heavy with things none of them needed to say. Celeste moved to the window, watching an orange cat stalk something in the garden two houses down. Mrs Wilson’s cat, probably. It was always hunting something.
“How's it going with your family?”
Braden's expression shifted, something dimming in his eyes. “We're working on it. Dad still won't pick up.”
Celeste remembered that night four months ago, sitting on this very floor while Braden held his phone with shaking hands.She'd been right beside him when he told his parents the truth he’d hidden for so long.
He was gay. And he was leaving his wife.
