Chapter 4
FREYA
Iring the doorbell and wait, listening to the muffled chaos coming from inside Bella’s house. A toddler is wailing at the top of her lungs, followed by a man’s voice declaring something I can’t quite make out.
I ring again. Still nothing.
Given the volume of the screaming, I’m not surprised no one heard the bell. I walk around to the back of the house, following the familiar path that’s laid out with mosaic stones. The tulips are in full bloom, bright splashes of color against the backdrop of her white ranch house.
It’s cozy. Inviting. The kind of place I realize I should visit more often.
Opening the back door, I poke my head inside. “It’s just me!”
The scene that greets me in the kitchen is pure domestic chaos.
Mark stands in the middle of the room with six-month-old Graham balanced on his hip, both of them appearing frazzled.
Baby Graham is fussing, making those pre-cry whimpers that mean he’s about to join his sister in the screaming chorus.
Meanwhile, two-year-old Sky sits on the floor in nothing but a diaper, tears streaming down her red, blotchy face.
Wooden blocks are scattered across the kitchen floor, what appears to be the remnants of a snack explosion on the counter, and a basket of unfolded laundry that’s been knocked over, clothes spilling everywhere.
A sippy cup lies on its side, creating a small puddle of what I hope is apple juice near the refrigerator.
“NO WANT!” Sky shrieks at the top of her lungs. “NO CLOTHES! NO NAP! NO!”
Mark spots me over Sky’s head and his expression shifts from desperation to relief. “Freya! Thank God you’re here. I was about to send up a flare.”
He bounces Graham gently, trying to keep the baby from joining the meltdown while dealing with his toddler’s epic tantrum.
His hair is sticking up in several directions, baby food splotches decorate his shirt, and he has that slightly glazed expression of someone who’s been running on four hours of sleep for the past six months.
“Sky, sweetheart, Mommy needs to get ready to go with Aunt Freya. Can you please—”
“NOOOOO!” Sky’s wail reaches new octaves, and she throws herself backward on the floor in a move that would make a professional soccer player proud.
Despite the chaos, or maybe because of it, I feel something twist in my chest. Mark doesn’t appear angry or overwhelmed, simply tired in the way that comes from loving tiny humans who don’t understand reason yet.
But when he gazes at his children, even in the middle of this meltdown, there’s nothing but love in his expression.
He crouches down next to Sky, still holding the baby, and speaks to her in the same patient voice he probably uses when she’s being an angel.
“I understand you’re upset, bug. Big feelings are hard. But we still need to get dressed, okay?”
Sky’s crying downshifts to hiccupy sobs. “No want clothes. Clothes yucky.”
“How about we pick out something super special? Maybe your sparkly dress?”
“Hey, little bug,” I respond, stepping carefully around the scattered blocks to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Sky. “What if we made getting dressed into a game?”
Sky peeks at me through her fingers, curious despite her tears. “What game?”
“What if we pretend you are a superhero, and getting dressed is putting on your special superhero disguise?”
“Like cape?”
“Even better. Like a secret identity. Nobody will recognize you’re really Sky the Superhero if you’re wearing regular clothes.”
Sky considers this with the seriousness of a two-year-old contemplating matters of national importance. She sits up, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “What my name?”
“Hmm…” I tap my chin thoughtfully. “How about Sky the Magnificent?”
“Okay,” Sky declares with a dramatic sigh, as if she’s making a tremendous sacrifice. “But me pick clothes.”
“Deal,” Mark responds, appearing relieved enough to cry himself.
As Sky toddles upstairs to choose her outfit, Mark shifts Graham to his other hip. The baby has calmed down and is now grabbing at his father’s shirt with those perfect, tiny fingers, making little cooing sounds.
“You’re a natural at this,” I tell Mark, surveying the disaster zone that is their kitchen.
“Ha. You should have witnessed me an hour ago.”
Before I can respond, Bella appears at the top of the stairs, and I do a double-take.
She’s actually dressed, like really dressed, not in the yoga pants and oversized T-shirts that have become her uniform since Graham was born.
Her red hair is styled in loose waves instead of thrown up in a messy bun, and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing makeup.
She appears like she’s heading to a job interview, not a girls’ day at the nail salon.
“Is that my sister or did a stranger break into your house?” I call up to her.
“Very funny. How do I look?” she asks, doing a little spin in front of us.
“Like someone who might actually be related to me,” I tease, but the truth is she looks beautiful.
Different than before kids, but beautiful in this new way, like she’s grown into herself somehow.
There’s a confidence there that wasn’t there before, mixed with a softness that comes from understanding exactly what you’re capable of.
“Sky’s picking out her outfit,” Mark reports, bouncing Graham, who has started to fuss again. “Fair warning: she’s in a very… creative phase.”
“As long as she’s wearing something when you take her to the zoo, I don’t care if it’s a Halloween costume and rain boots.”
Mark leans over and kisses Bella’s cheek, a quick gesture that’s probably more routine than romance at this point, but there’s something sweet about the way his hand briefly touches her waist, the way she automatically reaches up to smooth Graham’s hair as he passes by.
“Have fun,” he mentions. “Try to remember you’re more than just Mom today.”
“I’ll try. Text me if Graham won’t take the bottle, and there are extra diapers in the bag on the counter, and his schedule is on the fridge, and if Sky has a meltdown about the special socks—”
“Bella.” Mark’s voice is gentle but firm. “I’ve got this. Go be Freya’s sister for a few hours.”
“I understand, I understand. But…” She trails off, glancing around the chaotic kitchen like she’s memorizing it. “I’ve never left him for more than two hours.”
“And he’ll be fine. I promise. We’ll probably nap, won’t we, buddy?” He addresses this last part to Graham, who responds by grabbing a handful of his dad’s hair.
Watching them together, I feel that familiar ache again. It’s not that I’m jealous, exactly. It’s more like longing. They have something I’m starting to realize I want more than I used to admit to myself.
When I was younger, the idea of settling down felt limiting, like giving up on adventure and spontaneity.
Marriage seemed like something that happened to other people, people who were ready to give up their independence and freedom.
But observing Bella and Mark navigate this beautiful chaos together, I’m starting to think maybe I had it backwards.
Maybe the real adventure is building something with another person.
Maybe the real freedom comes from having someone who understands all your worst qualities and chooses to love you anyway.
Sky thunders down the stairs wearing a tutu, striped tights, a dinosaur T-shirt, and cowboy boots. The combination shouldn’t work, but somehow on her, it absolutely does. She’s also wearing approximately seventeen hair clips and what appears to be every piece of costume jewelry she owns.
“Me ready!” she announces, striking a superhero pose that nearly sends her toppling over.
“Perfect,” I declare, and I mean it. “You appear magnificent.”
“I look like superhero?”
“The most magnificent superhero I’ve ever encountered.”
Sky beams and runs to hug my legs. “You come zoo?”
“Not today, bug. I’m taking Mommy for a special girls’ day.”
“When I big, I come girls’ day?”
“Absolutely. It’s a promise.”
Mark scoops Sky up with his free arm, now holding both kids with the practiced ease of someone who’s gotten used to being a human jungle gym. “You two have fun. And Freya? Thanks for taking my wife away from us. She needs this.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, and I realize how much I mean it. Not just the time with Bella, but this glimpse into what their life resembles. Even with the crying and the tantrums and Mark’s obvious exhaustion, there’s something here I find myself wanting.
As we head out to my car, Bella sighs with what sounds like a mixture of relief and guilt.
“I love them so much,” she says, glancing back at the house where Mark is probably already dealing with some new crisis. “But sometimes I forget who I used to be before I became Mom.”
“You’re still you,” I tell her, unlocking the car. “…the evolved version.”
“Some days it doesn’t feel that way.”
We get in the car, and as I start the engine, I find myself thinking about Ben. About the way he gazed when I mentioned wanting to get married someday. About the surprise in his voice, like the idea had never occurred to him.
“So,” Bella starts as we head down the street. “Tell me everything. How’s work? How’s the art going? Please tell me you have some gossip that doesn’t involve potty training or sleep schedules.”
I almost mention the fake engagement. The words are right there, waiting to spill out. But something stops me. Maybe it’s the way Bella asked about Ben specifically, or maybe it’s the realization that telling her would make it feel more real somehow.
And I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.
“Work’s good,” I respond instead. “I’m working on a new series, abstract pieces exploring transformation.” I shrug, hoping that explanation suffices, since I don’t like to discuss my art too much. I’d rather it speak for itself.
“And very you. What about dating? Please tell me you’re seeing someone interesting.”
“Not really dating anyone seriously right now.”
“What about Ben? You two have been friends forever. Has that ever been a consideration? I mean, do you ever think about you two together?”
I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “Ben and I are just friends.”
“Are you sure? Because every time I witness you two together, there’s this energy. Like you’re both pretending not to notice something obvious.”
“Ben never gets into relationships,” I state quickly. “He’s married to his job.”
“People can change, you understand. Especially when they meet the right person. Consider Mark, he used to be Mr. Bachelor Forever, and now he gets excited about pediatrician appointments.”
But even as I deflect her questions, I remember the way Ben gazed at me in the jewelry store yesterday.
The way he insisted on buying me that ring I loved before I came to my senses.
The way he seemed genuinely surprised that I might want marriage someday, like he’d never considered that I might not be content to be his eternal best friend.
“You understand what I think?” Bella turns in her seat to face me. “I think you’re both too scared to risk what you have, to ruin your friendship. But sometimes the biggest risk is not taking any risk at all.”
I bite my lip, wishing I could tell her about the weird situation with Ben I find myself in. I’m worried what she would think about it, though, especially given what she’s declaring now.
She’d probably tell me what I’m doing with him is too risky.
And maybe she’d be right.
But I recognize that I’ll be fine. It’s one dinner, which will be over soon enough. Plus, bonus points: I’ll then get to hold it over Ben for the rest of our lives. Anytime I want something from him, I can remind him of the time I pretended to be his fiancée in order to secure him a deal.
It’s fine if my sister won’t understand. She’ll never have to learn about it anyway.