Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Aria
The irony wasn't lost on me as I stood in my apartment watching Gabriel direct two burly movers on where to place my newly purchased couch.
"A little to the left," he instructed, his cop voice coming through. "No, your other left."
He'd given me a complete apartment makeover for Christmas—new furniture, fresh paint, the works. It was gorgeous. Modern but cosy, with soft grays and warm wood tones that made the space feel twice as big. He'd even had my landlord agree to let him repaint.
And I was moving out.
"You know this is ridiculous, right?" I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
Gabriel turned to me, his expression sheepish. "I know. But I wanted you to have it anyway. For when you need space, or..." He trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. "I just wanted you to have something that was yours. That you chose."
My heart squeezed. Even now, after everything, he was thinking about what I needed.
"Besides," he continued, his lips quirking up, "we can donate most of it. There's a women's shelter that could use it."
"That's perfect," I said softly, crossing to him. I stood on my toes and kissed him. "Thank you. For understanding why I need to do this."
"You're not running away this time," he said, and it wasn't a question. "You're running toward something."
"Exactly."
The truth was, I'd never felt at home in this apartment. It had been a place to sleep, nothing more. A way station between my old life and whatever came next. I'd been so focused on survival—on making rent, on proving I could do it alone—that I'd never actually lived here.
But the houses where the dads and kids were? That's where I came alive.
A crash from the hallway made us both jump.
"I got it!" Wyatt's voice called out. "I'm okay!"
Gabriel and I rushed to the door to find Wyatt sitting in a pile of packing peanuts, grinning up at us. Mason stood next to him, looking guilty.
"We were trying to help," Mason explained, his little voice earnest. "But the box was slippery."
"I can see that," I said, biting back a laugh. The hallway looked like it had snowed Styrofoam. "How about you guys help me pack the kitchen instead? No more boxes in the hallway."
"Okay!" They scrambled up, packing peanuts clinging to their clothes and hair.
Gabriel shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'll get the vacuum."
Back inside, I found Mila and Hazel in my bedroom, carefully wrapping my picture frames in newspaper.
"Is this your mum?" Mila asked, holding up a photo of me and my mother from my college graduation.
"It is," I said, sitting down next to them on the floor.
"She's pretty," Hazel said quietly. "Like you."
"Thank you, sweetie." I looked at the photo, at my mother's proud smile. I'd called her last week to tell her about the engagement, about the dads, about all of it. She'd been shocked, then concerned, then—after I'd talked for nearly two hours—cautiously supportive.
"As long as you're happy," she'd said. "That's all I've ever wanted for you."
I was happy. Deliriously, impossibly happy.
"Are you really going to live with us forever?" Mila asked, her brown eyes serious.
"That's the plan," I said.
"Good." She went back to wrapping frames. "Daddy's been smiling more since you came back."
My throat tightened. "Has he?"
Hazel nodded. "He was really sad when you left. He tried to hide it, but I could tell."
"I'm sorry I left," I said, meaning it. "I was scared and confused, and I made a mistake. But I'm not leaving again. I promise."
"Pinky promise?" Mila held out her little finger.
I linked mine with hers. "Pinky promise."
In the living room, I found Theo and Oliver “organising" my books, which mostly seemed to involve building towers and knocking them down.
"We're making a library!" Theo announced.
"I can see that," I said. "Very architectural."
"That's what Daddy does," Oliver said proudly. "He makes buildings."
"He does. And you know what? We're going to need someone to organise all my books at the new house. Think you two can handle that?"
They nodded enthusiastically, and I made a mental note to buy some low shelves for Noah's house. The kids should be able to reach the books.
Noah's house. Our house now.
We'd talked about the logistics for hours.
I'd rotate between all their houses—spending time with each family, making sure no one felt neglected.
But Noah's house was the biggest, the most central, and honestly, the one that felt most like home.
His guest room would become mine, at least officially.
In practice, I'd probably end up in someone's bed most nights.
The thought made me blush.
"Aria!" Finn appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. "Dad says we're ready to load the truck."
"Already?" I looked around at the organised chaos. Somehow, despite the kids' "help," we'd actually made progress.
Outside, I found Ronan directing traffic like a general commanding troops. He'd rented a moving truck, and Liam, Ethan, and Julian were already loading furniture.
"Couch first," Ronan called out. "Then the dresser. Aria, where do you want the kitchen boxes?"
"Wherever there's room," I said. "Most of it's going to donation anyway."
He caught my eye and smiled, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest. Even now, after everything, he could make me feel like a teenager with a crush.
"Come here," he said, and when I got close enough, he pulled me against his side. "How are you holding up?"
"Good," I said. "Really good, actually."
"No second thoughts?"
"Not even a little."
He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Good. Because Finn's already planning where to put your stuff in his room."
"In his room?"
"He wants you to have a drawer. For when you stay over." Ronan's voice was rough with emotion. "He's never asked for that before. Not even with Eva."
I looked over at Finn, who was helping Wyatt carry a box of books that was definitely too heavy for them. My heart swelled.
"I'd be honoured," I said.
The next few hours passed in a blur of boxes and furniture and seven kids who were more hindrance than help but absolutely precious nonetheless.
Ethan carried my mattress like it weighed nothing, his muscles flexing in a way that made me momentarily forget what I was doing.
Julian charmed my elderly neighbour into giving us her old bookshelf.
Liam organised everything with the precision of a lawyer preparing for trial.
And through it all, the kids were everywhere—asking questions, telling stories, making sure I knew exactly where everything should go in my new room.
"You need to be close to the bathroom," Theo informed me seriously. "In case you have to pee at night."
"That's very thoughtful," I said, trying not to laugh.
"And near the stairs," Oliver added. "So you can hear if we need you."
"I'll always hear if you need me," I promised.
By early afternoon, my apartment was empty except for the new furniture Gabriel had bought. We'd arranged for the donation pickup tomorrow. I stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the space that had never quite felt like mine.
"Ready?" Noah asked from the doorway. He'd been quieter than the others today, letting everyone else take charge. But his eyes had barely left me all morning.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm ready."
He crossed to me, taking both my hands in his. "I know this is a big step. If you need to keep this place, if you need somewhere that's just yours—"
"I don't," I interrupted. "Noah, I don't need this place. I need you. All of you. This apartment was never home. You are."
His eyes shone, and he pulled me into a kiss that was soft and sweet and full of promise.
"Let's go home then," he murmured against my lips.
The caravan to Noah's house was ridiculous—the moving truck, followed by five cars full of dads and kids. I rode with Noah, and the twins chattered the entire way about where my things would go and what we'd have for dinner and could we please, please, please get pizza?
"We're having a proper family dinner," Noah said firmly. "Aria's first official night, we're doing it right."
"But pizza is proper," Theo argued.
"Pizza is perfect," Oliver agreed.
I caught Noah's eye and grinned. "Pizza does sound good."
He sighed, but he was smiling. "Fine. But we're using the good plates."
"The good plates!" the twins cheered.
At the house, organised chaos erupted all over again. The dads carried furniture while the kids "supervised," which mostly meant getting in the way and offering contradictory advice.
"No, no, the dresser should go there!" Mila directed.
"But then she can't see out the window," Hazel countered.
"Maybe she doesn't want to see out the window," Leo suggested.
"Everyone wants to see out the window," Caleb said with the authority of a nine-year-old.
I let them debate, watching with a full heart as my new family argued over furniture placement. Eventually, we got everything situated—dresser under the window (the kids won), bed against the far wall, my small desk in the corner where the light was good.
It was perfect.
"Now the closet," Julian said, carrying in an armload of my clothes. "Let's see what we're working with."
The closet in Noah's guest room was generous, but it still felt surreal to hang my clothes next to the empty space that would hold... what? More of my things as I accumulated them? Clothes I'd leave here between rotations to other houses?
"You're overthinking," Julian said, watching my face.
"How can you tell?"
"You get this little wrinkle right here." He tapped the space between my eyebrows. "It's cute, but unnecessary. This is your home now. Your closet. Your space. Stop worrying about the logistics and just... be here."
I took a breath and nodded. He was right. I was home.
By the time we finished unpacking the essentials, it was late afternoon. True to Noah's word (and the twins' demands), we ordered pizza—five large pizzas for thirteen people, which somehow wasn't quite enough.