20. Katy
CHAPTER TWENTY
katy
TWO MOMS. TWO PLANETS.
Ella’s dining table looks like Pinterest and a glitter bomb exploded on it.
There are color swatches. Clipboards. Printed screenshots with titles like “Soft Neutrals” and “Baby Shower Themes.” Rebecca is arranging them into piles with military precision.
I sit back in my chair with a lemonade, one hand resting on my stomach, letting it all happen. These two are crazy, and I’m not trying to get in their way.
Ben’s mom, Caroline, drove down from Boston this morning with a smile and homemade cookies and a hug that was warm without being invasive, like she understood exactly how careful she needed to be.
Danny, unfortunately, does not share her restraint.
“Danny,” Ella says distractedly, as he steals a cookie off the counter. “No.”
Caroline laughs. “Oh, let him be. He’s such a good boy and deserves at least one.”
I smile before I can stop myself. She’s awesome.
“So Bex, how was St. Tropez?” I ask. She left after the triplets’ birthday party and came back only yesterday. She was originally planning to stay for the rest of the summer but ended up cutting her trip short.
“Amazing. But also a lot. There are a lot of big personalities in my family. Also, Tyler was getting a little restless and nervous about training, so it’s good to be back.” She explains as she keeps adding things to her binder.
“Ugh, Tyler can be such a baby. But I kind of get it. Eating clean near your grandmas is impossible. And it’s his last year before the draft,” Ella adds.
Rebecca flips through invitations. “Okay, let’s get started, ladies. How about a football theme? Neutral colors. Cute but tasteful.”
Ella’s head snaps up. “No.”
Rebecca blinks. “No?”
Ella is already spiraling. I can feel it. “We cannot do a football theme. What if he doesn’t like sports? We can’t project.”
Rebecca does her best to hide her laugh. “Ella. Love of my life. This baby does not even know what a ball is.”
“That’s not the point,” Ella argues.
“It is literally the point.” Rebecca rolls her eyes.
“Honey.” Caroline grabs Ella’s arm. “Let’s take a breath. This doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Ella turns to me, voice soft. “We’re not here to decide who he’ll be. We’re just celebrating that he’s coming.”
“I know, El.” I do my best not to burst out laughing. She’s so cute when she takes things so seriously.
Ella smiles softly at me. “Sorry. You get to decide what feels good. We’ll follow your lead.”
Rebecca nods immediately. “Exactly. And for the record, a football onesie is not destiny.”
“Unless it is,” Ella mutters.
“Oh my God.” Rebecca rolls her eyes.
I clear my throat softly. “I was thinking something simple. Like blue and teddy bears?”
Ella points at me like I’ve just validated her whole worldview. “Exactly.”
Rebecca leans back. “Okay, but statistically you know that baby is getting a football at some point.”
“What if he wants to be a poet?” Ella blurts.
Caroline and Rebecca are doing their damnedest to not burst out laughing too. I crack first, and then they do too.
“I’m serious!” Ella insists.
“I know,” I say gently. “I just… I kind of love that you care this much.”
Her expression softens. “Of course I care. I love him already. And I don’t want him boxed in,” she says quietly.
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I know. He won’t be.”
At that exact moment, Jack steps out of his office with a mug of coffee and stops short.
He takes in the disaster on his table. The color swatches.
The clipboards. Danny chewing something he absolutely shouldn’t be.
“Well, I see you ordered a couple of things, Ella.” He grins.
“Make sure you chose the right color palette. I know the baby’s whole future depends on it. ”
“Dad! Stop it.”
Jack nods once at his sister. “You drive down from Boston for this?”
“Of course,” Caroline says. “And I brought cookies. I saved some for you.”
“For that, I’ll go refill your tank. But you can’t drive back tonight. It’s not safe.”
“I know, Jack. I’ll leave tomorrow after you take me to brunch.”
Jack nods, already turning away, and disappears back into his office like this interaction has been efficiently logged and handled.
Rebecca stares after him. “Oh. So this is genetic.”
“What is?” Ella asks.
“I think,” Caroline adds diplomatically, “she means the Winters men being excellent brothers.”
“Oh yeah,” Ella says easily. “Their love language is acts of service.”
I smile. Ella’s family is incredible. I really do love that for her. But watching her dad adore her so instinctively, so unquestioningly…yeah. It stings a little bit.
My dad has never made me feel that easy to love.
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to earn love that I don’t think I actually know what unconditional love looks like. What if I don’t know how to give it?
The thought follows me more often these days than I’d like to admit.
“Right,” Rebecca says, turning back to Ella. “Quick question. Have you ever filled your own gas tank?”
Ella rolls her eyes. “We have a system in which each sibling specializes in something, okay? And gas tanks are not my specialty.”
Rebecca snorts. “Sure. That doesn’t sound codependent at all.”
“Well, we don’t care, it works for us. So shut it.” Ella shrugs.
Rebecca circles back, “Anyway. Fine. Bears.” She narrows her eyes. “But if people bring football onesies because all the potential dads are football players…”
Ella opens her mouth.
“We let them,” Rebecca finishes. “Because the baby does not care.”
I smile. “That works for me.”
Caroline nods at me. “It’s your day. We’ll do whatever feels right for you.”
I look around the table. At the chaos, at these women who showed up without being asked. And I feel loved. Like there’s no one even missing here.
“No football theme,” I say. “But I reserve the right to laugh if someone brings tiny cleats.”
Ella grins, relieved.
Danny steals another cookie.
And I enjoy the feeling of being loved by my chosen family.
Ella and Caroline are in the kitchen making lunch when Rebecca gets that suspicious smirk on her face.
“Okay, Katy, spill. Now. Before they come back.”
“What are you talking about?” I attempt.
She rolls her eyes. “You look blissful. That means orgasms. Now tell me everything before I ask you in front of Caroline.”
My eyes widen. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Fine! Yes, okay? There might have been multiple orgasms in my life recently. Courtesy of Ben. Happy?”
“Very. The question is, are you happy?”
I sigh. “Very, very happy. I’m still a little hurt about what happened, but I just love him so much. I think I’m doomed to chronically love him no matter what the idiot does.”
Rebecca just grins smugly, like a lawyer who just won her case. “This is amazing. I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy.”
Is it really as easy as she makes it sound? Is happiness something you can just choose to have?
My childhood house looks exactly the same. Even though everything in my life is so different. The same white siding. The same hedges trimmed within an inch of their lives. The same front door I grew up walking through without ever wondering if I was welcome.
Ella stands beside me on the front step, quiet, hands folded in front of her.
She offered to come with me. She knows my parents.
But she doesn’t quite understand how conditional their love can be.
Growing up like she has, with a father who adores her more than life itself, it doesn’t even cross her mind that my parents might say no.
I smooth the edge of the envelope between my fingers. Thick, cream-colored cardstock. Rebecca insisted we do it properly.
As if that might help.
The door opens.
My mother’s expression tightens when she sees me. Her gaze flicks briefly to Ella, then drops to my stomach.
Something passes across her face. A flash of something I don’t have a name for, gone so quickly I almost convince myself I imagined it.
Then she looks away, and the moment disappears.
When her eyes return to mine, her expression is perfectly composed.
“Katy.” Her lips press into a thin line. “Ella.”
“Hi, Mrs. Montgomery,” Ella says softly, offering a small smile.
My mother nods once and steps aside. “Come in.”
The living room smells like the same lemon cleaner and the same flowers that are never allowed to wilt. Nothing has changed.
We don’t even sit down.
“How can I help you?” my mother asks with polite detachment.
“I’m having a baby shower.” I pull the envelope from my bag. “Grandma Patty is hosting. I wanted to invite you. Both you and Dad.”
I hold it out. My mother doesn’t take it right away. Her gaze drifts briefly, pointedly, to Ella.
“Yes, we’ve heard,” she says. “About the shower.”
Of course they have.
“I thought it would be better to invite you properly.” I meet her gaze. “In person.”
She accepts the envelope at last but doesn’t open it. Doesn’t look at it.
“I see,” she says.
There’s a pause. Long enough to feel deliberate.
“Katy,” she continues, voice measured, “we’re concerned about the decisions you’ve made. They make more sense now that I see what company you’ve been keeping.”
I feel Ella still beside me.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been… influenced by complicated situations,” my mother adds. Her eyes flick to Ella again, assessing and hard.
The sadness evaporates, replaced by a hot pulse of anger.
“Ella is not the reason I’m in this situation.” My voice stays steady, even though I’m fuming. “I am.”
I cannot believe her. She knows exactly what Ella went through. She knows she lost a baby. Her grandchild. Ella almost died in the process. And instead of kindness, my mother is measuring her. Like she always has. Looking at her like she’s beneath her. It makes my blood boil.
“Regardless of who is to blame for these circumstances, we don’t think it would be appropriate for us to attend. We simply cannot condone your behavior,” she says finally.
The words land hard.
I nod once. I don’t argue. I don’t ask why.
“I just wanted you to have the option.” I look down. “That’s all.”
She inclines her head, satisfied. “We appreciate that.”
I turn toward the door.
“Katy,” she says, stopping me. “We do hope you understand. We’re simply doing what we think is right.”
I don’t look back.
“I know,” I say.
And for the first time, I really do. This is who they are. I’ve never seen her more clearly than now.
Outside, the air feels sharper. Ella doesn’t speak until we’re halfway down the path.
She stops, then pulls me into her arms without a word. Holds me tight without an ounce of pity. Just presence and support.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispers. “For giving them the chance, even if they chose not to take it.”
They aren’t confused.
They aren’t scared.
They aren’t going to change.
It’s time for me to stop waiting for them to do so.