Chapter 35 #2
There’s a soft, glowy feeling tucked in the middle of my chest, and her words make it flare brighter.
It’s almost too easy to remember the other giddy moments I’ve had over the last few weeks.
The day I made a show of getting the soccer ball past him and got tackled to the ground by the Unicorns.
Last week, when we were laughing so hard at his attempt to make a cat and dog pancake that there were tears in my eyes.
When we were lying in bed one morning, Theo’s arms wrapped securely around me like always, and I gave into the urge to finally take a bite of his forearm.
He has brought out a side of me that’s been dormant for so long—that comfortable, childlike joy I’ve been missing.
I think about laughing into the warmth of his chest. About hazelnut spread on crackers in a dark kitchen.
Toes touching under a blanket, red Starburst saved for me, a bookshelf to help me heal.
His hands on my skin and his sighs in my ears.
The way he supports me, cheers for me, pushes me to believe in myself.
Judging by the way my heart is simultaneously aching and cheering, I might’ve also failed at the whole casual arrangement.
“I think,” I start, my voice hitching. “I think I have very real feelings for that man.”
“Finally!” Tessa shouts, throwing her hands in the air.
Millie shushes her. “Quiet celebration! Think of the children!”
We all burst into a fit of giggles, trying our best to lower the volume.
“You like like him,” Millie says, pressing one of my hands between hers.
Tessa’s eyes are glassy. “I’m so happy for you. Truly. You deserve someone who’s as obsessed with you as he is.”
I scoff. “I don’t know if he’s obsessed.”
Millie bumps her shoulder with mine. “Theo’s been all-eyes-on-Fable since we were kids, babe.”
Footsteps echo down the stairs before Finn comes into view, in plaid pajama pants and a T-shirt Millie got him for Christmas last year. It has an image of Spock surrounded by pink hearts that had Finn blushing bright red when he opened it.
“Speaking of obsessed,” Tessa murmurs under her breath, sending us into giggles all over again.
A tiny smirk hooks his mouth as he circles the back of the couch to reach Millie. “Sounds like you three are having a great time.” He drops a sweet kiss to the top of her head.
“Did we wake the girls?” Millie asks, tilting her chin to look up at him.
He brushes her auburn waves behind her ear. “No, they’re sleeping soundly. Don’t worry about them; just enjoy your sisters’ night.”
The air practically sizzles around them. Finn seems like he’s in a trance as he lowers his lips to hers, and I have to look away. The sight of them is making something sharp prick at my insides, and it feels an awful lot like longing.
Tessa’s gaze crashes with mine, and she points a thumb over her shoulder, mouthing, Should we go?
But then Finn clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, and reaches an arm out to me. “Want a refill?”
“Yes, please.” We hand him our empty wineglasses and he goes to the kitchen to open a new bottle.
Voices from the movie fill the quiet as I try to decide what these newfound feelings mean. I don’t want to run from them. I want to turn around and run right back to them.
“Do you think I royally fucked everything up?” I ask warily.
“Not at all,” Millie assures me.
The air mattress squeaks as my sisters lean toward me for a group hug, our obliterated charcuterie board on the mattress between us.
“We’ve all said a lot of mean stuff over the years, and we still like each other,” Tessa points out.
A laugh bubbles out of me. “We’re sisters. It’s kind of unavoidable.”
When Finn returns—with three fresh glasses of wine and the eye masks Tessa brought tucked into his arm—he passes everything out and we relax back against the pillows.
He helps us open the packages while balancing our wine, then collects the trash, drops another kiss to Millie, and says, “Have fun. Let me know if you need anything,” before leaving us to our sisters’ sleepover.
“Okay,” Millie says, patting my thigh. “Tell us about this bookshop.”
“How ’bout you give me the number of the property owner?” Tessa requests.
I slouch a little farther between them. “No way.”
“But it sounds perfect,” Tessa says adamantly. “The photo alone is a blatant sign, straight from Gramps.”
“If anyone can get you that spot, it’s Tessa,” Millie adds through a yawn.
Tessa nods. “I’ll have those Smoothie Bros on their knees. That building will be yours.”
“I appreciate that.” I laugh, reaching for their hands. “But I wanted this to be something I accomplished on my own.”
Tessa gives me an unimpressed look. “Like the A-frame? I know you’re the queen of stubborn, but we’re your family.”
“You didn’t tell us it was falling apart.” Millie sighs, disappointed. “He was our Gramps too. We would’ve loved to help.”
Guilt burrows its way behind my rib cage.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you.
” I pause to think about it. “Okay, maybe I didn’t want to tell you.
But that’s because you all would’ve given me an out, and I think I knew that if you did, I would take it.
I’d throw in the towel and let Mom and Dad sell the place.
” My throat constricts around the words.
“And I wanted to fix it so badly. For Gramps. You know how much he loved that cabin.”
A long moment of silence passes between us. I suspect we’re all thinking about Gramps now, picturing him in his reading chair, sock-covered feet propped on the coffee table, a book in his hands, a steaming cup of tea nearby.
“We loved it, too, though.” The edges of Tessa’s lips curve down. “I have a lot of amazing memories there. Remember when we helped him turn the living room into a life-size Candy Land board?”
Millie smiles fondly. “Nobody wanted that bowl of licorice.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Looking back, I can see how stubborn that was—trying to take everything as a personal mission. When, really, they should’ve been there too. It could’ve been a project that brought us closer instead of putting distance between us.
“You know, Fabes,” Millie says, squeezing my hand. “You can absolutely do this on your own. I wholeheartedly believe in you. But the thing is, you don’t have to. Why carry all the weight when you could split it with us? That’s what family is for.”
I try to stop my lips from quivering. “But you all never ask for help. I feel so messy compared to you two.”
“Oh, Fabes. We ask for help all the time.” Tessa leans her head on mine. “Remember our caravan of cars when everyone helped me move to Chicago?”
“How about when I made Mom and Dad come stay with me when I had the flu for a week?” Millie says.
Tessa nods. “Or that time in college when the entire backstage crew got mono, and you all spent the weekend building the sets with me?”
A soft laugh seeps out of me. “Still wondering how they all got mono.”
“I blame Rick, the cheating bastard,” Tessa grumbles.
Millie laughs, wrapping her arm around me. “The point is, we all help each other. Right?”
I nod, and Tessa pulls out her phone, opening the Notes app. “So tell me, what still needs to be done?”
I wave her off. “You really don’t have to—”
She sits up and gives me a sharp look. Tessa in serious mode is a little scary.
In a good way. I try to tame my smile. “Look,” she says.
“I have five days here. Hand me a paintbrush, I’ll paint the shit out of something.
Hand me a power tool, I’ll look up how to use it, then power-tool the shit out of it.
You hear me? I’m not taking no for an answer. ”
My smile bursts free. “Yes, ma’am.”
Millie sits up, too, copying Tessa’s expression. “What she said!”
Laughter trickles between us, and as I list what the A-frame needs—burrowed under a quilt, wedged between my sisters—the tension bleeds out of my body. The knot in my chest loosens, and I feel lighter than I have in years.