Chapter 47 This is Family
~Felicity~
Blinking, the first thing I noticed when I woke was the feeling of Caden's arm tightening around me.
I was warm, safe, and it felt glorious. Caden squeezed lightly a few times, pulling me against his chest and cuddling me close.
For just a moment—that blessed space between sleep and full consciousness—I forgot all the events of yesterday.
I just felt the safety of my husband's arms and the comfort of our bed.
"Morning," he murmured against my hair, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning." I turned in his arms to face him, studying his face in the early morning light coming in from the windows. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than I expected. You?"
"Same. I was just so exhausted that there was no other choice but a deep sleep."
We lay there quietly for a few minutes, neither of us ready yet to face the day ahead. Yesterday felt surreal—honestly, the last few months had been surreal. The whole thing felt like it had happened to someone else.
"We need to call Morrison, though I'm sure he already knows," Caden said eventually.
"I know. And Dr. Chen. Macy will probably want to see her this week."
Caden's phone rang, and he reached for it, showing me Brad's name flashing on the screen.
He answered, "Hello?"
I couldn't hear Brad's side of the conversation, but I knew what he was asking—he was asking for help.
Neither Brad nor Jessica had any family to speak of, I think it was just Brad's father and brother left.
My guess is he had no idea what to even do for something like this.
Knowing what he wanted, I nodded to Caden communicating without words that we'd be happy to help.
After he hung up, Caden said, "Damn, there so much to do."
"One thing at a time," I said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "We don't have to figure it all out right moment."
"Yeah, I'm going to text my mom and see if she's willing to lend a hand."
"That's a great idea."
Just as Caden shot off his message to Sandy, a crash from downstairs sounded, followed by what was definitely Lucas yelling about something.
"Sounds like the kids are up," Caden said with a sigh.
Another bang, then Zoe's voice carrying up the stairs, though I couldn't make out the words.
"Maliyah probably has her hands full," I said, reluctantly pulling away from Caden's warmth. "We should get down there."
"Shower first?"
"You go ahead. I'll brush my teeth and then switch with you."
We moved around each other in a practiced morning routine—him stepping into the shower while I washed my face and brushed my teeth. The normalcy of it felt both comforting and strange given everything that had happened.
"Your turn," he said, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
"Thanks. Is it getting louder down there?"
"I think so. But I think I smell breakfast, so that's something."
When I emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, Caden was dressed and checking his phone.
"Anything important?" I asked, pulling on jeans and a sweater.
"Just work stuff. I'll deal with it later.
According to Lauren, her replacement, Nathan, is doing well.
Picking things up quickly, and will be ready to be on his own soon.
I think I agree since, when I checked my phone this morning, he sent me an email with essentially a rollup of everything that happened yesterday when I was out of office.
Then—check this out." He leaned over and showed me his phone.
"He already sent a list of everything he rescheduled for today and tomorrow and he rafted an email to the team about me being out for the next several days. It's only just eight in the morning!"
We made our way out of our bedroom together, and I noticed Macy's door was open, her room empty. She must have already gone downstairs with the other kids.
"At least someone's cooking," I said as the smell of pancakes and bacon grew stronger. "Maliyah must have gotten up early."
But as we reached the top of the stairs, I heard a door slam somewhere below us, followed by sudden quiet. The yelling and banging had stopped abruptly.
"That's weird," Caden muttered.
We made our way down the stairs, and when we rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped short.
Caden's mother, Sandy, was standing at our stove, flipping pancakes on a griddle I didn't even know we owned.
The counter was covered with what looked like enough food to feed a small army—bacon, eggs, hash browns, fruit salad, and a stack of pancakes that was already taller than seemed reasonable for our family.
Before either of us could say anything, the front door banged open, and we heard Cash's voice boom through the house.
"I brought bagels! Everything bagels, sesame, plain, and some of those fancy ones with the cranberries!"
"I'm making pancakes!" Sandy yelled back from the kitchen, not turning around from the stove.
Caden and I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the scene unfolding in our kitchen. We hadn't even said good morning to anyone yet.
Sandy finally noticed us and immediately threw her hands up, spatula still in one of them.
"Oh, honey!" she exclaimed, rushing over to envelop both of us in a fierce hug. "I may have hated that C you next Tuesday, but even the devil wouldn't keep me from being there for my Macy."
I found myself pressed against Sandy's ample chest, breathing in her familiar scent of hairspray and vanilla perfume, completely overwhelmed by her sudden presence in our kitchen.
"Mom," Caden said when she finally released us, "what are you doing here? How did you even get in?"
"Maliyah let us in, of course. Sweet girl, that one. She's out back with your father keeping all the children in line."
She turned back to the stove, continuing her pancake production as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
"Now, I got your message, Caden, and I've already called the funeral home," she continued, flipping another pancake with practiced efficiency.
"Henderson & Sons on Elm Street. I've been to enough funerals over the years to know which ones are crap and which ones aren't, and Henderson's is good people. They'll treat our family right."
"Mom, I like texted you two seconds ago. Caden said. "how did you—"
"Honey, there's no time to waste. I scheduled you an appointment for noon today, so everyone better get moving to eat breakfast and get ready. You can't make these kinds of decisions on an empty stomach."
Cash appeared in the kitchen doorway, carrying multiple bags of bagels.
"Morning, kids," he said, as if showing up unannounced at seven in the morning were perfectly normal. "Sorry for your loss. That woman put you all through hell, but nobody deserves to go like that."
I looked at Caden, who appeared as shell-shocked as I felt. His entire family had apparently mobilized overnight and descended on our house to help us navigate Jessica's death.
"Where's Macy?" I asked, suddenly realizing I hadn't seen her yet.
"Outside with Peter and the other kids," Sandy said, adding another pancake to the already towering stack. "She seemed to be holding up okay this morning, poor thing. Asked if she could help make breakfast, but I told her today was a day for adults to take care of her."
"She's okay with all of you being here?"
"Are you kidding? She lit up when she saw us. Kids need family around them at times like this."
I felt a sudden rush of emotion—gratitude mixed with overwhelm, relief mixed with the strange sense that our quiet family grief had suddenly become a very public affair.
"Sandy," I said carefully, "this is incredibly kind of you, but—"
"This is what family does, love." she interrupted, waving the spatula for emphasis. "You think you can handle a funeral and a traumatized child and all the legal nonsense that comes with a death and custody without help? Please."
She had a point. I looked at Caden again, who shrugged as if to say, "This is how my family works."
"Now," Sandy continued, "we need to talk about what kind of service Jessica would have wanted. I know she wasn't religious, but the girl deserves something dignified. And we need to think about what's appropriate for Macy to see and do."
The practical nature of her planning was somehow both comforting and jarring. While we'd been lost in the emotional aftermath of Jessica's death, Sandy had apparently spent the night making lists and phone calls.
"Coffee," Cash announced, having apparently located our coffee maker. "Everyone needs coffee before we start making big decisions."
As the kitchen filled with the smell of brewing coffee to join the pancakes and bacon, I realized that this was what family looked like in crisis—not the quiet, processing time I'd imagined, but this loud, overwhelming, practical love that showed up without being asked and took charge when you couldn't.