Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
preston
Once the last sugar-drunk child is out the door, I look around and my house resembles a glitter-slime detonation site.
We pull a task force to get the worst of it cleaned and tidied.
Lily plops cross-legged in the middle of the couch, cheeks flushed, ready to tear into her stack of presents.
The rest of us sit cross-legged around her on the floor.
Callie goes first, pushing a sequined card into her hands. “It’s a spa day for us girls,” she announces before Lily has a chance to read the words. “We’ll get our nails painted, drink virgin mimosas, and gossip like proper divas. The whole shebang.”
April and Liam exchange a loaded look before sliding a massive box into Lily’s lap. It swallows her whole, and she couldn’t care less, shrieking from behind it. Her little hands shake when the torn wrapping reveals the newest Barbie Dreamhouse inside.
“That’s the latest edition,” Liam adds. “But it still didn’t feel good enough.”
“No?” I deadpan, as though a four-story plastic mansion isn’t already overkill.
“I’ll have to file for an extension just to fit that monstrosity in here.”
Liam ignores me. Of course he does. He slides a Tiffany’s box across the table. “Which is why I also got my princess this.” From the corner of my eye, I see April dropping her head.
Inside, there’s a real diamond tiara, delicate and sparkling, fit for actual royalty. My daughter gasps so loud the neighbors might’ve heard it.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath to April. “We agreed your manchild fiancé isn’t allowed to shop for my daughter unsupervised.”
April throws her hands up. “Don’t look at me. I had no idea about this.”
I shake my head, watching Lily twirl in her tiara, Barbie box forgotten. Not the first outrageous gift I’ve had to return on her behalf. Won’t be the last either, I’m sure.
Still, her joy is undeniable.
Mia and I agreed already that our gifts for Lily wait until morning. Her actual birthday. And I can’t stop listing in my head all the new family traditions I hope we’ll be starting tomorrow.
The house hums with laughter long after the last gift’s been unwrapped.
Hours later, after enough scrubbing to qualify as a full-body workout, the unicorn crime scene almost passes for my home again—and we sit for dinner.
I prepared something healthy and hearty yesterday, waiting only to be roasted today.
Lily’s showered and in her pajamas, still high on frosting and adrenaline, prancing from couch to couch while the ladies silently pop the last stray balloons.
I’m stacking leftover cupcakes into a box when Mia sneaks one from the tray.
“Careful,” I warn, “that’s one of the emergency cupcakes.”
She arches a brow. “Emergency cupcakes?”
“For when I realize what we’ve done to this place and need a reason to keep living.”
She grins and takes a bite of it anyway, frosting landing around her lips. I reach over and wipe the corner of her mouth with my thumb before I can think better of it. She sticks her tongue out to lick both the frosting and my finger.
My thumb drags a little slower than it should—soft, lingering.
She freezes at the sound of Callie’s gasp, and so do I.
Then Lily calls, “Miaaaa, storytime,” and bolts for the stairs, leaving frosting casualties—aka me—and chaos behind.
Mia steps back, cheeks flushed. “I’ll, uh, go tuck her in.”
“Right.” My throat feels rough. “Of course.”
Calista’s standing by the counter, mid-sip of champagne, eyes wide, mouth curved into that shark grin I know too damn well. Her gaze flicks between us like she’s watching a telenovela finale unfold. One with a plot twist.
I cough, too loud, trying to reset the moment. “Cupcake crumb,” I say. “A big one.”
Liam is washing something off his tie in the sink. April is blissfully checking her pager and texting someone back, thumbs flying on the screen. But Mia’s about to choke for real. She points at me once, twice, finds no words, flashes us a shaky grin, and runs upstairs after Lily.
The second she’s gone, Callie looks around, waving her glass. “Really? Nobody saw that? April?” Her eyes double in size. “April motherfucking Hadden? Can you check back in, please?”
I brace. Nothing good ever starts with Callie using full names. But April doesn’t even look up. “What are you two fighting about now?”
I shoot Cal a warning look—one that usually works in the hospital. Apparently, it has zero effect in my own home.
“April, come on. You’re supposed to be the genius here,” Callie goes on, sloshing her drink as she gestures, then she turns to me.
“I’m not even mad, you know. I’m just deeply offended that you’d deprive me of gossip.
” She angles her body away for half a second, chin lifted.
“No, scratch that.” She whips back around, eyes wet-bright with sadness, voice too sharp to announce anything but danger.
“Fuck you. I am mad. I’m fucking livid. You don’t get to heal and keep that from me. ”
“Calista.” My tone slices through her dramatization of facts. This is my life we’re talking about. “It’s none of your business. Quit it.”
“Of course it’s my business.” She waves her empty glass, pointing at everyone present.
“It’s our business.” She puts the flute down and crosses her arms, expression softening just enough to make the next part hit hard.
“You don’t get to call me family, expect me to show up at ungodly hours to clean your vomit, cover for your hospital disasters, and then…
What? Cut me out when you finally stop being miserable?
Absolutely not, you fucking bastard. You don’t get to glow and not let us bask in it. ”
I should be embarrassed. And I am. Warmth creeps up my neck, because she’s right. She’s right.
Callie’s colorful language pulls April’s attention from her phone. Liam’s just staring at me, eyebrows halfway to his hairline, you’re fucked, buddy written all over his face.
Calista’s voice rises, then cracks a little.
“You’re glowing. Happier than I’ve ever seen you.
You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I didn’t earn front-row seats to this?
I held your hand through the Blake disaster, through the whiskey months, through the tragic phase where you thought cargo pants were a personality trait. I earned this moment.”
She paces, gesturing to the ceiling, appealing to a higher power for help. “And now? You’re smiling again. You laugh at stupid shit. You let a woman spread glitter all over your beige, boring house. I’ve seen cult followers less transformed.”
April finally lowers her phone. “Damn it. She’s right. But Callie, for God’s sake, lower your volume before Lily dreams in profanity.” Calista takes a deep—but not nearly enough soothing—breath. “Please. Go ahead. Keep handing him his own ass. He deserves it.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to catch my breath too. It should sting, being seen this way, but it doesn’t. Not anymore. What I feel is relief. Exposed and relieved, all tangled up together.
Callie keeps marching, barefoot and unstoppable.
“You’ve been running on fumes for years, Pres.
We all lived through that storm with you, way before that bitch up and left you.
That was a special kind of shitshow, and we were there too.
And now…” She pauses, emotion cracking through the humor.
“… I’m calling that whole mess a blessing in disguise. There, I said it.”
Liam has a hand over his mouth, but I can hear the muffled laugh. April scolds Cal under her breath, saying that was too far, but I’m with Calista on that one. And if that’s what I needed to go through to get to Mia? I’d go through it again. A hundred times.
Callie holds April’s chin and turns it toward me. “Look at the man. He’s smiling, A. I wasn’t even sure he remembered how.”
I hold that stupid grin, no reason to hide anymore.
April tilts her head. “Huh. How did I miss it?”
Callie spins, arms out. “Seriously, I think you should retake that IQ test, A. You must’ve lost at least a hundred points.”
April’s grin is stupider than mine now. “Preston and Mia are a thing.”
Liam gasps, hand to his chest. “What? I’m shocked. Stunned. Utterly blindsided.” He waggles a finger at me, mock stern. “My turn to threaten you to death, Dr. Preston.” His vindictive smile is a bit too happy to be mocked too.
Callie rolls her eyes. “Please. I’ve seen better acting in perfume commercials.”
April squints at him. “You knew? Cancel the wedding.” She slaps his chest with all her might, but he doesn’t even flinch. He just raises his brows, the picture of fake innocence, and pulls her in for a hug.
April’s expression cycles through about twelve different emotions before landing between surprise and awe. “Of course you two are a thing.”
I don’t answer, but I don’t have to. She studies me, then exhales a quiet laugh. These women know me too well. They’re family. Liam is the weird adopted cousin who got too comfortable hanging with us.
“Oh my God. It makes so much sense. You’re… lighter. She’s rubbed off on you,” April adds.
The corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it. “That’s Mia, all right. And I’m completely, irreversibly in love with her.”
“I knew it.” Calista pumps a fist in the air.
“And I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t want her to leave at the end of her three-month visa.” I keep my expression calm, even as my pulse climbs. “Mia is… overwhelmed with the knowledge. So I’m giving her time to process everything. To make her decision.”
April rolls her lips, suppressing a smile. “Oh my God, that must be killing you, Mr. I-Got-It-All-Under-Control.”
I lick my teeth and nod. “I don’t think my lungs will work at their full capacity until she gives me an answer.”
Liam pulls April to him, settling his chin on the crook of her neck. “I’m so glad we’re past this phase.” Facing me, he adds, “But if you need to stop her plane, call me.” He grunts when April elbows him in the ribs.
For a rare moment, the room goes quiet. Just the four of us and the faint smell of frosting in the air.
For years, I tried to do everything alone. But tonight, surrounded by the people who refused to give up on me—I finally stop pretending I need to.
And maybe that’s why it feels different this time. I’ve got four cheerleaders on my side, and somehow, that makes the waiting a little easier. And the hope a hell of a lot louder.