Chapter 48 Our Song
Our Song
Ali
The smell of grilled steak hit Ali before they even rang the doorbell.
“Okay, but if I get trampled by children, I expect someone to bring me dessert in the hospital,” she muttered as Dylan squeezed her hand.
He laughed, kissed her temple. “Noted.”
Rocky answered the door barefoot, holding a kid upside down by the ankles.
“Heyyy! Look who finally made it! Come in, come in—Naomi’s threatening to burn the corn if I don’t help, but I told her the grill’s a sacred space.”
“Hi, Aunt Ali!” Zoey yelled from behind his legs, launching forward and hugging Ali’s knees before running off mid-giggle.
Ali blinked. “Did she just call me Aunt Ali?”
Dylan smirked, placing his hand on the small of her back as he guided her inside. “Yeah. Naomi started it. Figured it was easier than explaining ‘Daddy’s teammate’s girlfriend who he talks about constantly.’”
Inside, the house was full of warm light and louder laughter. Naomi waved from the kitchen, apron on over a tank top and leggings, a wooden spoon in one hand and a baby monitor in the other.
“You must be Ali,” she called. “Come in, sit, I’ll pour you something cold!”
Ali smiled, suddenly shy. “Thank you for having me.”
Naomi grinned and reached into the fridge, pulling out a can with a flourish. “Got something just for you—sparkling lime water, no sugar. Dylan gave me a heads-up.”
Ali blinked, a little taken aback. “Oh… thank you.”
Naomi just winked, setting it on the counter with a glass of ice.
Rocky passed by again, this time with the toddler on his shoulders. “I told you she was real!”
“Barely,” Naomi quipped.
Ali snorted, relaxing as the energy of the house wrapped around her like a blanket. Kids racing down the hallway. Cartoons playing on low volume in the background. Dylan casually moving through the space like he belonged here—like they belonged here.
At one point, he helped the oldest set the table while Zoey insisted on sitting next to “Aunt Ali.” Naomi winked at her across the table like they were already friends.
And as dinner started, laughter and crumbs everywhere, Ali looked around the table and felt her chest ache in the best way. This was chaos. This was joy. This was the kind of life she never let herself imagine before. And somehow, she was in it.
Ali rinsed a plate in the sink, laughing softly at something Zoey had said over dessert, and passed it to Naomi, who was towel-drying beside her.
The kitchen had mellowed—kids sprawled on the living room floor with a movie on, Rocky and Dylan half-watching from the couch, deep in some conversation about Miami.
Naomi glanced over, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You’re good with them, you know. My kids.”
Ali snorted. “They’re easy to love. And Zoey’s got the best one-liners I’ve ever heard from a seven-year-old.”
“She’s a menace,” Naomi said affectionately. “But she gets it honestly.”
Ali grinned. “It’s sweet, though. All of it. Your family.”
Naomi set a plate aside and leaned a hip against the counter. “Took work to build it. The real kind, you know? Communication, therapy, deep breaths…Costco snacks in bulk.”
Ali nodded, sensing the weight behind her words.
“You ever want kids?” Naomi asked gently, not prying—just present.
Ali paused, fingers still under the warm water.
“I think so. Maybe. With the right person. But it’s complicated.
My body doesn’t always cooperate thanks to the PCOS, and I guess I’m still learning to trust myself.
But Dylan…he makes me feel like I could have anything.
Like it wouldn’t matter what the road looked like, just that we’re on it together. ”
Naomi’s expression softened. “He’s different with you. It’s not just the smiling and phone-checking. It’s the stillness. He’s steadier.”
Ali swallowed the lump in her throat and laughed lightly, trying to ease the emotion. “You’re really gonna make me cry in your kitchen, huh?”
Naomi bumped her shoulder. “Please don’t. We just wiped the counters.”
They both laughed. Then Naomi tilted her head. “You mentioned a book club earlier, right? Shelf Indulgence?”
Ali lit up. “Yeah! Me, Abigail, Ashley, and Raleigh Ann. We read a little of everything, but we mostly talk about men and our deep love for fictional ones.”
“Sold,” Naomi said immediately. “Do you allow long-distance honorary members?”
“We encourage them,” Ali grinned. “But fair warning—we’re on a spicy hockey romance kick this month, and Raleigh Ann gets very passionate about book boyfriends.”
Naomi grabbed her phone. “Add me to the group chat immediately.”
Naomi finished wiping down the last bit of counter space and leaned her elbows on the island, watching Ali with soft, curious eyes. “Can I ask you something a little personal?”
Ali glanced up, brow raised. “Sure.”
“You mentioned PCOS earlier. I’ve got it too. Diagnosed after Zoey, but the symptoms were there way before. It took forever to get someone to listen.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought I was losing my mind for years.”
Ali blinked, a beat of surprise flashing in her expression. “Same. I didn’t get diagnosed until I was twenty-four. Irregular cycles, fatigue, brain fog, the weight stuff…it always felt like people thought I was just lazy or dramatic.”
Naomi nodded, fierce and immediate. “God, yes. And the guilt. Like you’re failing at something everyone else seems to do easily.”
Ali bit her lip, her voice quieter now. “And then BPD on top of it…”
Naomi’s face stilled—open, but gentle. “That’s…a lot.”
“I was diagnosed in college,” Ali said softly, wrapping her fingers around the dish towel like an anchor.
“I didn’t even know what it was before then.
Just that I felt too much all the time. Like any tiny emotional crack was the end of the world.
Especially abandonment. It was—” she paused, swallowing.
“It was hard on Dylan. On me. I spent years learning how to manage it. Therapy. Medication. Self-awareness. But there are still days I don’t trust myself to get it right. ”
Naomi didn’t hesitate. She reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to get it perfect to be worthy of love. And the fact that you are doing the work—that’s everything.”
Ali’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I think I spent a long time believing no one could love me with all that. That I was too much work.”
Naomi shook her head. “Dylan’s face when he looks at you? That’s not a man who’s overwhelmed. That’s a man who feels lucky.”
Ali smiled shakily. “Thanks. I think I’m finally starting to believe that too.”
They stood in the stillness for a moment longer, nothing loud or heavy, just a quiet knowing between women who had fought hard to feel whole.
Then Naomi tapped the counter lightly. “Okay. Now that we’ve trauma bonded, can we please go find dessert? I hid a tray of brownies from Rocky and I’m ready to share.”
Ali laughed, wiping her eyes. “God, yes. Brownies and book club initiation. You’re one of us now.”