Chapter 32
Greyson
The thing about Blair Cunningham is, she doesn’t tiptoe around anything. Not love, not pain, and definitely not my life. She just moved in with all her notebooks and questions with that fire in her eyes.
Still, I didn’t expect it to happen on a random Tuesday morning with a box of mugs and a baby crying in the background.
We pulled into Madison’s driveway just before ten. Blair hopped out before I could cut the engine, tugging her cardigan tighter around her shoulders like armor.
“You nervous?” I asked, grabbing the box from the backseat.
She glanced back at me. “To tell Madison I’m moving in with you?”
“Yeah.”
She grinned. “No. She’s going to act like she’s surprised, then pretend she always knew.”
“She probably did.”
Inside, the house smelled like lavender and chamomile, and the faint hum of a lullaby played from a monitor on the table. Madison was in the kitchen, hair in a bun, wearing a T-shirt that read Cool Moms Cry Too .
“You’re late,” she called. “I made banana muffins and emotional judgments.”
Blair walked in first, holding a small box. “I brought you back your baking dish.”
“And?” Madison asked, arching a brow.
“And… I’m moving in with Greyson.”
Madison blinked. Slowly. Then, she calmly took a sip from her coffee mug. “Took you long enough.”
Blair laughed, shoulders loosening. “You’re not surprised?”
“Oh, I’m shocked,” Madison deadpanned. “He only calls you honey bee in public. Obviously just friends.”
I chuckled, setting the box down on the table. “She’s not wrong.”
“Honestly,” Madison added, “I’m just glad someone else is finally dealing with your middle-of-the-night pacing and your obsession with reheating tea.”
Blair rolled her eyes. “I don’t pace.”
“You do. I’ve clocked it. When stressed, you average twenty-six laps between the guest room and the fridge.”
“Wow.”
Madison grinned. “I love you. I’m thrilled for you. And I’m keeping your drawer stocked here just in case he pisses you off and you need a weekend away.”
“I won’t,” I said quickly.
“Sure you won’t.”
As if on cue, Olive began to fuss in her bassinet. Madison groaned and flopped back onto the couch. “My daughter, the diva.”
“I got her,” Greyson said, already moving.
He lifted Olive gently and cradled her against his chest like it was second nature. The sight of his big hands wrapped so gently around her tiny frame did something to me I couldn’t describe.
He rocked her slowly as Madison leaned back with a sigh. “I’m keeping him,” she mumbled. “You can move out, but Greyson stays.”
“No deal,” I said, sitting beside him.
I watched the way he looked at Olive, the way her small face relaxed against his shoulder, and I knew, this wasn’t just moving in together. This was something more profound. Something permanent.
“You’re a natural,” I whispered.
He glanced at me. “Are you sure you’re ready to live with me?”
I smiled. “I already feel like I do.”
Madison lifted a hand, waving it dramatically. “Seriously, get a room. Preferably not mine.”
We all laughed, and I tucked myself into Greyson’s side, resting a hand on Olive’s back. The house smelled like lavender baby lotion and freshly baked apples. My suitcase was still by the door. There were boxes waiting to be packed. But for now, all I felt was complete.
“Hey,” Madison said suddenly, quieter now. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing up. For staying. For loving my kid like she’s yours.”
I blinked, overwhelmed.
“I should be thanking you,” I whispered. “You reminded me who I was before everything fell apart.”
Madison just smiled. “Then I’d say we’re even.”
And there, in the quiet lull of our little makeshift family, I knew one thing for sure, this wasn’t an ending.
It was the start of everything.
A little while later, Madison disappeared to feed Olive, and I found Blair standing in the nursery, her fingers gently brushing the edge of the crib.
“She’s lucky,” she said softly. “To have a mom like that. A village.”
I came up behind her, resting my hands on her hips. “She has you, too.”
Blair turned, eyes soft. “And I have you.”
“Forever, if you’ll let me.”
She leaned up and kissed me, gentle, certain, and completely home.
And just like that, Wisteria Creek didn’t feel like a place I’d stayed behind in. It felt like the place where I was meant to build something new with her.