Aubrey
“Mom!” I call out as I walk down the hallway of the house I grew up in, my voice echoing off the walls.
I poke my head into the living room, half expecting to find her curled up on the couch with a book, but it’s empty. I head toward the kitchen—the only other place she practically lives.
Instead, I find my dad perched at the counter, today’s newspaper folded open to the crossword. His pencil hovers mid-air like he’s deep in battle with a clue.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise,” he says, setting the pencil down and lifting his brows at me.
“Hey, Dad.” I circle around the counter and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Have you seen Mom?”
“Always the way,” he sighs dramatically. “Never here to hang out with me.”
I snort. “You know I love hanging out with you. Stop being so dramatic.”
A grin pulls at his mouth. “Your mom is out shopping with Hazel.”
The mention of Hazel’s name makes me freeze for half a second. My mind flashes back to the last time I saw her—a couple of weeks ago—and I internally cringe at how awkward that moment still makes me feel.
I’ve managed to avoid Trent for the past three weeks. Apparently, me bolting out of his door like my ass was on fire was enough to make him stop trying to talk to me. And honestly? I’m both relieved and a little sad about it.
But I don’t have time to unpack that right now, not when the Instagram message I got half an hour ago is still circling in my brain, refusing to settle.
“Oh. Okay.” I nod, trying to act casual even though my mind is still spinning.
Dad studies me for a beat, head tilted. “What’s on your mind, Strawberry?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly wishing I’d rehearsed this. “I just wanted to run something past Mom. Get her opinion.”
He taps his finger against the counter, thinking. “Maybe I could help?”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah, of course.” He gives me that soft dad-smile that always makes me feel twelve again. “Whatever it is must be important if it had you rushing over here in the middle of the day. So go on—hit me with it.”
“Okay…” I inhale slowly, bracing myself. “So, I had this bride reach out to me on Instagram. The cake maker she hired to do her wedding cake bailed, and she’s asking if I have any availability to make it instead.”
Dad’s brows lift. “Right. Okay. When’s the wedding?”
“Just over a month.”
“Can you do it?”
“I think so.” I pull out a stool and sit, my fingers drumming nervously on the counter. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve focused on occasion cakes. Since opening the bakery, I really haven’t had the time to take on anything extra.”
“What’s got you considering this one?” he asks, folding his arms as he leans back against the counter.
“I feel bad for her,” I admit. “A wedding’s stressful enough without the person meant to make your cake suddenly bailing.”
“So what’s the issue? The timing? The cake?”
“I guess the issue is… I’m nervous to agree.” I let out a shaky laugh. “I mean, come on, Dad—it’s someone’s wedding cake. That’s a huge deal. And yeah, the time frame is kind of tight.”
“Strawberry.” His voice softens as he rests a hand over mine. “You are a wonderful baker. You have a successful business, and as long as this doesn’t overload you, I think you could create an amazing wedding cake for this couple.”
“Really?” I ask, needing the reassurance more than I want to admit.
“Of course. As someone who has eaten more of your baked goods than I care to admit”—he pats his stomach dramatically—“you’re insanely talented. If you want to do it and it won’t affect anything else, then do it.”
I blow out a breath, rubbing my palms against my thighs. “What about flavors? Design? Decoration? The bride said she doesn’t care, but what if the ones I pick don’t taste right together? Or the cake ends up looking too plain and boring?”
“Strawb, if anyone can do it, you can,” Dad says with a reassuring nod. “Give yourself a couple of weeks to experiment, then get your mom and Liv—maybe even Hazel—to taste-test. Make a whole day of it. You’ve got this.”
A smile tugs at my lips despite the nerves still circling in my stomach. “You’re a smart guy, you know that?”
“Not everyone can have both brains and beauty, Strawb—but this guy does.” Dad points both thumbs at himself with an over-the-top grin.
I can’t help but laugh. “That you do.”
“So,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows, “what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do it.” The words come out steadier than I expect. “I want to be the reason this bride has one less thing to worry about.”
He beams at me. “You’re a good kid, you know that.”
I nudge him gently with my shoulder. “I guess it’s the beauty and brains I get from my dad.”
He pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Warm and familiar.
“I’m so proud of you, Strawberry,” he murmurs. “The woman you’ve grown into… your drive, your determination, your big kind heart. You’re your mother’s daughter, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks, Dad.” My voice softens. “The drive and determination—that’s all you. We all inherited that from you.”
I’m lucky to know some of the best men in the world—starting with my dad and followed by my brothers.
It’s all because of the way my parents raised us. They showed us how to love, how important it is to work hard, and how to carve out a place for yourself in the world.
Even when it came to Brandon and Kade taking over Jenkin’s Construction, they had to prove to Dad they were ready. It was always going to be theirs in the end, but he wasn’t about to just hand it over.
For me, though, the biggest thing I’ve learned from my parents is that true love exists—that soulmates are real, and happily-ever-after’s aren’t just in fairy tales.
The love my parents have for each other, the way they still look at one another after all these years… it’s everything I’ve always wanted for myself.
But the hard part is that the person I wanted all that with broke my heart into pieces. And I’m not sure how you ever come back from that.
I shake the feeling away and look down at the crossword my dad was working on before I interrupted him, distracting myself from thoughts of Trent.
“Nine down is watermelon,” I say.
“Watermelon?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“You should know this—it’s from Mom’s favorite movie… ‘I carried a watermelon.’ It’s what Baby says to Johnny,” I explain.
“I thought he said, ‘No one puts Baby in the corner.’”
“He does,” I say with a small grin, “but that’s at the end.”
He nods his head and writes the answer before moving onto the next one.
I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting at the kitchen island with my dad, working our way through the crossword. We laugh over clues we can’t figure out, tease each other when one of us gets something wrong, and share little stories that make the hours slip by.
When Mom arrives home, she gets started on dinner while I linger in the kitchen, enjoying the easy rhythm of being with my parents. The evening passes in laughter and quiet conversation, the kind of moments that make the house feel warm and full.
I feel so blessed to have the family I do. Moments like these—when I can lean on them, share my thoughts, and ask for their guidance—remind me just how lucky I really am.