CHAPTER 75
harley
The morning got away from us, but it was okay.
We weren’t on a strict schedule, which helped.
Aria had spent the better part of two weeks making goodbye gifts for every person in our building.
She had a way of charming people and making even the grumpiest of people smile.
We spent more than an hour going from door to door so that she could give everyone their gifts and say goodbye.
But Aria did everything on her own time whenever she could, so each visit included lengthy conversations about her new dress, what she’d miss, and what she was looking forward to. I had never been so social in my life.
Afterward, we made our way to Beans Bistro and enjoyed a long breakfast, complete with more conversations and more charm.
By the time we actually got on the road to head to Wilde Bay, we were three hours past my anticipated leave time.
That was entirely my fault for not allotting enough time for conversation.
Aria sat in the back, her gaze plastered on the world outside her window with Sir Bites-a-lot in her lap, as I drove.
The city gave way to suburbs and eventually stretched into rolling hills and distant coastlines.
I kept her favorite playlist playing and just let her do her thing.
Sometimes she talked as if her life depended on it; other times, she quietly disappeared into her introspective place. I respected both.
“Can you tell me about the farm again?” she asked.
“Well,” I began as I turned down the music, “it’s four acres.”
“Is that big enough for a pony?” she cut in.
“It’s big enough for a full-size horse if you wanted one,” I said and saw her face light up in the rearview. Realizing my mistake, I quickly added, “We’d have to have some serious conversations about getting a horse. They’re a lot of work.”
“What about a cow?”
“That too.”
“And chickens?”
“I don’t know anything about chickens, but we could talk about it.” I had no idea where the sudden request for animals was coming from.
“I want a chicken named Starla,” Aria told me. My gaze flicked to the rearview, catching sight of her briefly. She was so pensive, bringing out the little wrinkle between her brows. “But Starla needs friends. She can’t be the only chicken. That’s just mean, and we’re not mean to animals.”
“No, we’re not,” I agreed.
“I think she needs five chicken friends, and maybe a boy chicken friend,” she continued. “But then we have to put their chicken apartments on the other side of the farm, so that he doesn’t wake me up when I’m sleeping.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” There was no way in hell I was getting a rooster. “Maybe we don’t need a rooster.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
“That’s very nice of you, thank you.” I chuckled. “Should I keep going?”
“Yes, please.”
“Our house is a big, white house with a full wraparound porch. I’m thinking of getting us a pair of rocking chairs. It might be nice to have them when we’re outside.”
“Can mine be purple?”
“Like I’d get you any other color,” I said.
Her room was already done and decorated in all the shades of purple, stars, and tulle that she loved.
And that didn’t include the purple in her bathroom, or all the purple scattered throughout the rest of the house.
“It’s two floors. The first floor is a big, open-plan space that gives us lots of room, and there are three bedrooms upstairs. You have your own bathroom.”
“I don’t know how to clean a bathroom,” Aria quipped.
“That’s okay. We can work on it together,” I replied. “There’s a barn, too, but I need you to stay out of it for the time being.”
“Is it haunted?”
“No.” At least, I was really fucking hoping it wasn’t. I didn’t need to deal with ghosts on top of the transition that came with a move this big. “I just don’t know if it’s safe for you to play in yet.”
“Maybe the chickens could live in the barn,” she said.
“That’s a solid idea,” I said.
“What would you name a chicken, Daddy?” Aria asked. I opened and promptly closed my mouth because never in my life had I wanted chickens, and I didn’t have a clue what I’d name one.
“Is that our house?” Aria shrieked when I turned down a dirt road, her volume making me cringe.
We passed through a gate for a wooden fence—one of those simple ones that wasn’t designed to keep anything out—and drove under an arch of trees that promised to be impressive when their leaves changed colors.
The house was just barely visible at the end of the long stretch of road.
“Yeah, that’s our house,” I said. A stream of excited commentary fell off her lips on rapid fire, the words stringing together in a way that I couldn’t understand. It did make me laugh, though.
I stopped in front of the house, and as soon as the engine was off, Aria was out of the car. I hurried after her on the off chance she tried to run inside.
“Look at all the space!” she screamed. She ran through the grass, swinging Sir Bites-a-lot around happily. “We can have so many chickens!”
“We’re not having four acres of chickens,” I said.
“We can talk about that later,” she replied. “We need more friends here.”
I knew she was in her want-a-sibling phase, but there was very little I could or would do about that. I didn’t want two kids. I was considering getting her a puppy, though. Because I worked from home, a puppy was feasible.
Her little body slammed into mine, and her arms wrapped tight around me. She squeezed as she danced in place, unable to hold still.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The phrase fell out of her on repeat, the words jumbling together. Bending slightly, I hauled her off the ground for a hug, getting hit in the face by a bear in the process. “I love it, I love it, I love it!”
“You haven’t even seen the inside yet,” I reminded her. A small nudge of anxiety tried to claw its way to the surface because what if she didn’t love it? What if I’d picked the wrong house? What if—
I shut my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath as I counted to five like my therapist had taught me to stem the onslaught of anxiety.
I couldn’t control the what-ifs in any situation.
If she didn’t like something about the house, then we’d figure it out.
Besides, she was more concerned with how many chickens she could put on four acres than with anything else.
Everything would be fine.
It was fine.
“Ready to see the inside?” I asked, and she nodded against my shoulder.
“I like the porch,” she said as I carried her up the steps. “It’s big.”
“It’s very big.”
“And it decorates the whole house?”
“Yeah.”
“What if we got rocking chairs for the front and the back?”
“You know what,” I began as I set her down in front of the door, “I think that’s a great idea. Should we get a third one for each set in case we have visitors?”
“Yes! I love people!” She did. And that was clearly not a thing she got from me.
“I know you do. I have one more very big surprise for you,” I told her, putting my hands on her shoulders. I positioned her in front of the door and held her in place. She practically vibrated with anticipation under my hands. “Are you ready?”
“Yes!” Aria exclaimed.
“Are you sure?” I teased.
“Yes!” she shrieked.
Reaching over her shoulder, I opened the door.
Standing in the living room under a sparkling Welcome Home sign was Holly.
The screaming ensued, unimaginably loud, shrill, and ear-piercing.
I quickly gave Aria a tiny push forward past the threshold and closed the door, leaving them both on the other side to scream with their excitement.
Some people would say hiring your surrogate as a nanny was a bad idea, and honestly, it probably was.
But after I kicked Vivienne out and started the divorce process when Aria was an infant, I was in over my head—exhausted, not sleeping, and hanging on by a thread.
Holly still lived across the hall at the time and made it her mission to help me out.
She became a lifeline as I tried to figure out how to keep an infant alive and thriving.
Eventually, that lifeline became a job offer once I was stable enough to think straight.
I didn’t regret a thing. There were no illusions about their dynamic.
Vivienne would forever be Aria’s egg donor, and she flourished in my single-parent routine—thankfully.
Holly loved her fiercely like an aunt, and there was no denying the bond they had.
Her stay with us in Wilde Bay was potentially temporary, as she figured out whether she wanted to continue in school or pursue her next adventure. Originally, she wasn’t moving with us, which was why her presence was the last big surprise.
“It’s safe now!” Holly shouted from the other side of the door. I opened the door to find her sitting on the ground with Aria in her lap. Her face was buried in Holly’s neck as she cried. Holly offered an apologetic smile. “We have big feelings.”
“That’s okay,” I said. Saying goodbye to Holly had been the most difficult part of moving.
Most of Aria’s memories included her in some way, shape, or form.
I sat down on the couch behind them and put a hand on my daughter’s head.
Wet, blue eyes peeked up at me. “It’s not permanent, okay?
We’re still figuring out the details of it, but she’ll be here at least for a while. ”
“I want her to stay forever,” she mumbled.
“Oh, my sweet little hellion.” Holly squeezed her tighter. “I wish I could stay forever.”
“We have a bigger house now,” Aria said. Oh, no. I knew exactly where this was going. “And Daddy said I could get tons and tons of chickens.”
I held my breath. Maybe the crisis was averted.
“Did he now?”
“I did not,” I interjected. “I said we could talk about a few chickens.”
“And I want a rooster,” she continued with a giggle.
“Four chickens,” I countered. “We can talk about four chickens.”
“And a rooster.”
“No, we can talk about four chickens.”
“Four chickens and Holly stays forever?” Aria replied. When Holly decided to move out and move on with her life, my daughter was going to have a hell of a time adjusting. I hated knowing that eventually we’d break her heart a little bit.
“Little love,” I began quietly, “Holly has her own life too. One day, she has to get out there and do all the things she wants to do.”
“And that doesn’t mean I won’t call,” Holly chimed in.
“Can we FaceTime?” she asked. “Like we do when we go on vacation without you?”
“Absolutely! I would love that.”
“Fine,” Aria grumped. Fine was better than nothing. Leaning forward, I kissed her forehead.
“And,” Holly continued, “I’ll be here for the rest of the year. I’m doing a few online classes, so we’ll both be students together.”
“Do you have to do math too?”
“Yup.”
“Math sucks,” Aria whispered, making me chuckle. If we made it to the math sucks portion of the conversation, we’d be okay. “Daddy loves math.”
“No, Daddy’s just good at math,” I corrected. The look she gave me screamed doubt and sass, but I ignored it. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“Where is Holly going to live?”
“There’s an apartment over the garage,” I said. “There’s a door upstairs that she can use, but she also has her own outside door.”
“Can I see your apartment?” Aria leaned back and pinned Holly with the most expectant stare on the planet. The girl had a way about her, though Holly was unfazed by the sass.
“Of course!” Holly matched her enthusiasm. I sat back on the couch, giving them the room to get up. Aria’s hand was instantly in Holly’s, clinging to her.
“We’ll come back for you, Daddy!” Aria said as she dragged Holly toward the stairs.
“Promise?” I called after them.
“Pinky promise!”
“Your pinky is all the way over there!”
“It’s an invisible pinky promise!” she replied, making me laugh.
“Oh!” Holly paused on the stairs, turning back to me. “I contacted a place for you about an estimate to fix the barn. I used the company email, so it won’t matter which one of us is there when someone comes out.”
“Smart idea,” I said. I had to catch up with consultations after taking time off before moving.
While Holly didn’t work for my company, I gave her an email address and free rein to set up whatever she needed regarding Aria or the house.
Sometimes, she noticed things before I did, or she just wanted to set up some activity with Aria.
She never took advantage of the arrangement, and I was sent a copy of everything, so it worked. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As they vanished upstairs in a flurry of fast conversation, I took a moment to stare at the house.
Really stare at everything. Besides the fact that the house was already put together with furniture and all of our stuff, there was just potential—the potential for a great future, and I was so goddamn excited for it.