“Try me,” she shoots back, grinning wider.
I don’t call her bluff. I know my sister too well—she has no problem airing out my embarrassing stories if it means winning. So for the sake of my dignity (and her wedding speech), I decide the grape story can stay buried where it belongs.
Claire is practically vibrating with curiosity. “Okay, now Ireallyneed to know what happened with the grapes.”
Mom chuckles from her spot on the couch beside her. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
Lillian leans forward, eyes twinkling. “I do. Tell us everything, Sienna.”
Aria gasps. “Traitor! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Lillian shrugs innocently. “I’m on the side of good storytelling.”
I shake my head, laughing as I go back to braiding Aria’s hair. “As much as I’d love to tell the grape story… I don’t necessarily want to be killed tonight. Rain check on it?”
“Absolutely not,” Aria shakes her head. “The grape story is going to your grave, Sienna, whether that be tonight or in a hundred years.”
“I’ll take the hundred years,” I quickly say. “I like adventure. And I’m not ready to give that up just yet.”
“Uh-huh,” she grins smugly, nudging my knee. “Exactly what I thought you’d say.”
We dissolve into giggles again, the kind that make your stomach hurt, and your cheeks ache. We move on easily after that, shifting from braiding hair to touching up our face masks, dramatically quoting our favorite movie lines, and playing a chaotic round of “who knows the bride best” trivia that quickly devolves into Aria accusing all of us of cheating.
Hours later,when everything has quieted down, Mom stands and catches my eye, nodding toward the deck door. I nod and follow her outside. She tops off my glass of wine, and we settle on the lounger, side by side.
“You’ve been quieter than usual tonight,” she says, taking a sip of her wine while eyeing me. “Everything okay, honey?”
I swirl my wine around the glass, watching it spin. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
“About Milo?”
I nod, staring out at the ocean. God, even saying his name in my head makes my stomach flip.“It’s too soon, Mom. We’ve known each other for like… ten days? But it doesn’t feel like ten days. It feels like I’ve known him forever, and still not long enough. I think I might be falling in love with him. And that scares the hell out of me.”
Even saying that out loud terrifies me.
Mom is quiet for a moment, then she wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, just as she used to when I waslittle. I rest my head on her shoulder, breathing in her familiar perfume.
“Honey,” she says softly, rubbing gentle circles on my back. “Love doesn’t always wait for the perfect timeline. Sometimes it sneaks up on you when you’re not looking. And when it does… it doesn’t feel too soon. It feelsright.”
I close my eyes, letting her words settle. “What if I mess it up? What if I’m too much for him? I’m loud and chaotic. I ramble when I’m nervous, and I’ve never stayed in one place long enough for anyone to really see me.”
Mom presses a kiss to the top of my head, holding me tighter. “You’re not too much. You’re exactly you. If he’s the right one, he won’t want less of you—he’ll wantallof you. Just as you want all of him.”
I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Idowant all of him.”
I want his quiet steadiness on my wild days. I want his patience when my brain won’t slow down. I want the way he looks at me like I’m not something to fix, but something to keep exactly as I am.
Mom’s arms tighten around me. “Then let yourself have it, honey. You deserve to be loved exactly as you are. And from what I’ve seen this week… he already does.”
“But you and Dad have always said I need to settle down. Find roots. Stop running from place to place like I’m scared of my own shadow,” I say, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I try to blink them back, but one slips free anyway. “That I’m too much for anyone to keep up with long-term… that one day I’d wake up alone because no one could handle all my pieces.”
The words taste heavy on my tongue, like old fears I’ve carried for years. I’ve heard versions of that speech too many times—gentle warnings wrapped in love, but warnings all thesame.Slow down, Sienna. You’re going to burn out. No one’s going to be able to keep up with you forever.
Mom pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes soft with love. “We were wrong, honey. We weren’t thinking clearly. We thought stability meant you had to slow down and become someone quieter, more… manageable. We worried because we love you so much. But watching you with Milo these past few days… we see it now. You don’t need to change. You just needed someone who loves the way you move through the world, someone who runs beside you instead of trying to slow you down.”
My chest aches sweetly from her words.
She smiles, a little misty-eyed. “Your father told me the other night that he’s never seen you look at anyone the way you look at Milo. He said, ‘Maybe our girl doesn’t need roots in one place. Maybe she just needs someone who feels like home no matter where she goes.’ And I couldn’t agree more.”
