Chapter 32
Morning comes slower than usual.
The house is quiet except for the low hum of the coffee maker and the soft creak of Neptune shifting on his bed.
My eyes feel tired, reminding me I stayed up much later than I’m used to…
I pad into the kitchen in socks, hair still messy from sleep, and breathe in the scent of strong coffee filling the room.
April is already there, leaning against the counter, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, cradling a mug between her hands.
“That smells like it could raise the dead,” she says as I pour myself a cup.
“It needs to,” I murmur, wrapping both hands around the heat. “Why did I drink so much?”
“Because you’re a free bitch. That’s what you kept saying last night anyway.”
She giggles as she pours coffee into a mug and hands it to me. I take a slow sip, the bitterness grounding me, and sink into a chair. Morning light spills through the window, soft and pale.
She sits across from me, and the silence between us feels comforting.
Then April smirks over the rim of her mug. “So.”
I narrow my eyes. “That tone means trouble.”
“That tone means I have observations.”
I groan softly. “Please don’t.”
She ignores me. “Finn is… intense.”
I stare into my coffee, already knowing where this is going.
“He barely let you out of his orbit all night,” she continues. “I mean… the man was locked in.”
I don’t argue because she’s not wrong. Around Finn, everything feels a little more charged, like I’m standing somewhere I shouldn’t be, but I don’t want to step back.
“And Aiden,” she adds, softer now, “just watched.”
I glance up.
“He wasn’t pushing,” she says. “He looked happy just seeing you happy. That was unexpected.”
My fingers tighten slightly around the mug.
There’s a quiet comfort about Aiden. He feels…
safe. He kept his distance, but he also stayed close.
Last night was clearly not his scene, probably not how he would have chosen to spend his Friday night, especially since he had to work really early this morning, yet he waited until we were ready to leave, just so he could drive behind me all the way home…
April tilts her head, studying me. “You noticed too.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I sigh, leaning back in the chair. “They’re just… different.”
“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “But they both clearly want you, May.”
The words settle heavy in my chest.
I stare at the steam curling from my coffee. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
April’s expression softens. “Maybe you don’t have to know right now. But you do need to ask yourself what you want.”
I don’t answer right away.
Because that question feels bigger than I’m ready for.
The front door opens before the silence stretches too long, and June bursts inside carrying a tote bag and enough energy for all three of us.
“Oh my God,” she says breathlessly. “You guys are never going to believe the morning I just had.”
She drops the bag onto the table dramatically and starts pulling books out one by one.
I blink. “What is this?”
“Nathan’s wife is so cool,” she says, practically glowing.
“We talked for like two hours about books, writing, romance, everything. She’s writing a series about a soccer team, and she basically told me the entire plot.
I feel like I know a sacred secret, and she gave me all of these, and they’re signed! ”
April gasps and reaches for one immediately. “No way.”
June grins, cheeks flushed from excitement. “She even wrote little notes inside.”
I laugh softly, watching them both lean over the books, excitement filling the kitchen in a way only they can.
June finally notices our faces. “What? What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” April says innocently, shooting me a look over her mug.
I kick her lightly under the table.
And for a little while, I let myself pretend I don’t feel the quiet question April left sitting in my chest.
What do I want?
Saturday night finds all three of us crowded in my kitchen, cooking, music low in the background, while ingredients take over every available counter space.
April insists on opening a bottle of wine before dinner is even half finished, and somehow that turns into two bottles by the time we finally sit down to eat.
The smell of roasted vegetables lingers in the air, mingling with the sweetness of the cookies cooling on the counter.
We talk about everything and nothing at once. Old memories. Stories from when we were kids. The kind of conversations that loop in circles because someone keeps remembering one more thing that makes us laugh harder than the last.
Later, once we’ve settled onto the couch with refilled glasses, the talking slows, and the silence feels easier.
June pulls her knees up beside her, rolling her glass slowly between her hands. “Thanks,” she says after a moment, voice softer than usual. “For this. For taking the time to be here with me.”
April nudges her shoulder immediately. “You don’t have to thank us for that.”
“I know,” she says, smiling faintly. “But… it helped. More than I thought it would.”
April studies her. “So what are you going to do now?”
June exhales slowly, looking down at her wine. “I’m just going to keep living my life.” She shrugs lightly. “Luca was great. He is great. And I think we’ll still be friends. But…” She pauses, searching for the words. “I know I deserve better than feeling unsure about where I stand.”
I reach over, squeezing her hand. “You deserve a man who’s proud to be seen with you,” I say quietly. “Someone who cares more about you than anyone else’s opinion.”
Her eyes soften, and she nods slowly.
“Exactly,” she says. “I’m not settling until I find a Max… or an Aiden.” She smiles faintly, lifting her glass. “I want someone who worships me.”
April laughs. “Okay, fair. But what about Finn?”
June hums, considering. “I like Finn. Finn is fun.”
She turns toward me then, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth.
“But Aiden…” she says gently, lifting one shoulder. “Aiden is a keeper.”
Sunday morning arrives quietly, the house already in motion before I’ve fully finished my coffee.
Suitcases sit open in the living room, half-zipped, clothes spilling out while April insists she can absolutely fit one more thing if she just rearranges everything again.
June moves more slowly, folding and refolding a sweater before placing it carefully into her bag, pausing now and then to glance around the room like she’s trying to memorize where things belong.
Neptune follows them from room to room, tail low but wagging, circling every suitcase, unwilling to settle while there’s still activity happening.
I keep busy in the kitchen, rinsing mugs that don’t really need washing and wiping down counters already clean, listening to their voices fill my home.
A knock sounds at the door, and when I pull it open, Aiden stands there with an easy smile, hands already reaching for the closest suitcase.
“Figured you might need an extra set of hands,” he says.
April lights up immediately. “See? This is why we like you.”
I smile, stepping aside to let him in. He moves through the room with quiet efficiency, lifting bags with ease and carrying them out to the truck before anyone even asks, my sisters chatting around him as he goes.
Neptune’s focus shifts instantly, tail going wild as he plants himself at Aiden’s boots, and he bends down briefly to scratch behind his ears before grabbing another suitcase.
Watching him slip so easily into the middle of it all does something strange to my chest, the way he just fits. There’s no hesitation, no awkwardness, like he’s been part of this rhythm longer than a few weeks.
Outside, the air feels cooler than it did earlier, crisp against my skin as we carry everything to the truck. Aiden loads the heavier bags into the back while April pretends to supervise, offering completely unnecessary advice.
“Careful,” she says dramatically. “That one contains large amounts of blueberry jam.”
He laughs under his breath. “Got it.”
The last bag is tucked into the truck, and with nothing left to load, the reality of goodbye settles quietly between us, heavy enough that none of us rush to move right away.
“Wait,” April says, glancing toward Aiden’s house. “I want to say goodbye to Uncle Mike before we go.”
Aiden smiles immediately. “Come on then,” he says, nodding toward the house. “He’d love to see you before you leave.”
June grins and turns toward the lawn, and I follow with Neptune at my side.
Inside, Uncle Mike sits in his usual chair by the window, and the moment he sees us walk in, his face lights up.
The goodbyes stretch into hugs and laughter and promises to come back. April hugs him first, telling him they’ll be back soon, and June follows right behind her, smiling as she hugs him again.
“I’ll send that jersey I promised as soon as I get home,” she says.
He chuckles. “Make sure it’s signed.”
“No worries, Uncle Mike,” she shoots back. “It’ll even have Rogue’s sweat on it.”
His laughter fills the room.
When we step back outside, Aiden walks us to the truck, waiting by the door while my sisters hug him tightly before climbing in. April points a finger at him with mock seriousness.
“Take care of our sister,” she says.
His gaze shifts to me, soft but steady. “I will.”
The drive down Highway 101 feels slower. The coastline runs alongside the road, and every few minutes one of them gasps or points at something new, both of them talking at once about how beautiful it is, already planning all the places they want to visit next time.
“I’m coming back immediately,” April declares.
“I sure hope so,” I say, smiling to myself.
When we reach Newport Municipal Airport, the private charter is already waiting, small and sleek against the open stretch of tarmac. A couple of staff members step forward to unload the bags for us, giving us nothing to do but stand there and let the goodbye stretch a little longer.
“I am so proud of you, May,” April says as she hugs me, holding on tighter than usual. “You’ve gone after your dreams, and now look at you.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, forcing lightness into my voice even as my throat tightens.
June hugs me next, and I hold her a little longer, resting my chin against her shoulder.
“Call me if you need anything,” I tell her quietly. “And keep being exactly who you are, okay? Don’t let anyone dim who you are.”
She nods, eyes shining but steady. “I won’t.”
I stand there watching them walk toward the plane, waving until the door closes behind them. The engine hum grows louder as the aircraft rolls away from the tarmac. I don’t turn back toward the truck until the plane disappears into the sky.
The drive home is quiet, the coast unchanged but somehow emptier without their voices filling the space beside me, and when I finally walk through the front door, silence meets me immediately, thick and still where laughter and music had lived all week.
Neptune lifts his head from his bed and pads over, pressing against my legs as I set my keys down.
I stand there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me, the house familiar and calm and suddenly feeling a little too big.
My gaze drifts toward the window, toward the soft outline of Aiden’s house next door. The thought comes easy—a knock on the door, a few quiet minutes, something warm and steady to fill the silence—but I shake it off before it gets any further.
Neptune nudges his nose against my leg, offering me all the comfort that I need.
“Come on,” I murmur, bending to scratch behind his ears. “Let’s go find something yummy to eat.”