“Disaster averted,” he says calmly, setting the glass safely on the kitchen counter.
“How do you always do that?”
“Practice.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ve had a year of honing my Thatcher-disaster reflexes.”
I want to argue about that, but this is not the first crisis he’s averted. Not even the twenty-second. Sometimes I wonder how much chaos I can accidentally bring into his life until he kicks me out, but the more I bring, the more he tells me he loves me.
Maybe we really are meant to be together.
The bookstore is packed when we arrive. Fairy lights twinkle in the windows, and a banner proclaimsBOOK LAUNCH: The Chaos Chronicles by Thatcher Edward Charlesin bright, colorful letters. My stomach does a complicated gymnastics routine at the sight of my name—my real name—in print, minus the III. I always found it so pretentious. One day, when I marry Pierce, I’m going to be just Thatcher Dellcourt.
“There he is!” Alli’s voice cuts through the crowd, and suddenly, I’m being pulled into a fierce hug. “I’m so proud of you, Meatball. So incredibly proud.”
“Thanks, Alli.” I squeeze her back, then notice the tallguy standing beside her with an amused expression. “Josh! You came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says, his arm sliding around Alli’s waist. “Alli’s been talking about this launch for months. I feel like I illustrated the book myself at this point.”
“He’s been practicing his supportive boyfriend face,” Alli stage-whispers. “It’s very convincing.”
“It’s genuine,” Josh corrects, but she’s smiling.
Seeing Alli and her cute vet together—settled and happy after almost a year of dating—makes my heart feel so full. Alli deserves this. She deserves someone who looks at her the way Josh does, like she hung the moon and all the stars around it.
“Thatcher,” the voice that used to bring me to a halt calls. I turn slowly to find my father standing behind me. Beside him, Tobias shifts awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Dad. Tobias.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “You came.”
“Of course we came.” My father’s voice is still gruff, but now I can see the pride behind it. He still wants me to succeed, but he now understands that looks different from how he and Tobias succeeded. “It’s your book launch. We wouldn’t miss it.”
A year ago, this moment would have been impossible. But a year ago, we hadn’t sat down for that conversation—the real one, where my father finally admitted that pushing me toward business was his way of trying to protect me from the instability he associated with creative careers. Where I finally told him that his constant disappointment hurt more than any financial struggle ever could.
We’re not perfect now. We probably never will be. But we’re trying.
“The book looks wonderful,” Tobias offers, gesturingtoward the display table where copies ofThe Chaos Chroniclesare stacked in colorful pyramids. “I read the advance copy you sent. It’s… It’s really good, Thatcher.”
Coming from my perfect brother, the words mean more than I expected. “Thanks, Tobias.”
“Your mother would be proud,” my father says quietly. “She always believed in your art.”
The mention of Mom makes me a little sad, but it’s a good kind of pain. The kind that reminds me she existed, that she loved me, that somewhere she’s probably watching and laughing at how long it took me to get here.
“Meatball!” Uncle Jack’s booming voice saves me from getting too emotional. He sweeps me into a bear hug that lifts me off my feet, Aunt Carla close behind with tears already streaming down her face.
“Our little artist,” she says, cupping my face in her hands. “Look at you. A real published author.”
“And illustrator,” I correct proudly.
“You made a book. A real book that children are going to read and love.” She pulls me into another hug. “Your mother is dancing in heaven right now. I just know it.”
The party swirls around me in a blur of congratulations and champagne and people asking me to sign copies of my own book. My cousins are here with their partners—Noah and Lior, Adam and River, Lex and Emery—all of them beaming with pride.
“Five minutes until your speech,” my agent, Rebecca, announces, appearing at my elbow. “Ready?”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughs. “You’ll be fine. Just speak from the heart.”
Before I can spiral into panic, Pierce’s hand finds mine. “Can I borrow him for just a moment?” he asks Rebecca. “I promise to return him in one piece.”
