Chapter 7 #2
I take the cube, pretend to eat it with large gobbling sounds, then let him collapse into my chest with a loud, satisfied giggle. He smells like juice and cheese and something vaguely floral—probably Charlie’s perfume—and his fingers are already clutching the fabric at my shoulder.
Meadow whirls past a second later in a flurry of pink tulle, chasing Noah, who’s half-laughing, half-yelling something about dragons. Their fancy clothes are already wrinkled and dirt-stained, which feels about right.
Jake follows them with a resigned shake of his head, stopping when he spots Theo using me as a recliner.
“Don’t teach him any bad words,” he warns, though the corner of his mouth is already twitching.
“Too late,” I say.
He grins and moves on.
Theo rests his chin on my collarbone, suddenly sleepy and humming a song that only he knows the melody to, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it. The warmth, the weight. The weird, stable rhythm of tiny lungs exhaling against my chest.
“You really are a natural,” a voice says behind me.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s Charlie.
She walks around to face me, barefoot now, her heels long discarded and red curls pinned up in a twisted knot that’s falling loose in places. Her lipstick is faded, and her mascara is a bit smudged, but she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.
I nod toward her kid on my chest. “He’s not bad once he’s sedated.”
Charlie laughs. “He’s obsessed with you.”
“He’ll grow out of it.”
She doesn’t argue, just smiles softly, then hitches her dress and steps up onto the low stone ledge by the outdoor fireplace. The music cuts mid-song, and the courtyard quiets almost immediately. Conversations fade, and heads turn.
Jake looks up from where he’s crouched near the bar, re-stacking soda cans with Noah. His brow furrows.
“Okay,” Charlie says, holding her glass a little higher. “I told Jake I didn’t want speeches.”
There’s a collective laugh, and Jake lets out a quiet groan, probably anticipating she’s about to make one anyway, and he’s got nothing prepared.
“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.