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It's a tentative hope, one that flickers like a candle in the wind, vulnerable but persistent. As I listen to Aria's chattering, her energy and innocence filling the room, I allow myself to entertain the possibility, however distant it might seem.
Aria's observant gaze catches me mid-thought, her head tilting slightly as she scrutinizes my expression. "Helloooooo... Daddy, where did you go?" she asks, her voice tinged with the innocent curiosity only a child can possess.
Caught off guard by her perceptiveness, I muster a reassuring smile, ruffling her hair gently. "Just work things, kiddo," I reply, hoping my tone conveys more certainty than I feel. “This is one of those big projects that makes Daddy work extra hard sometimes.”
She pouts, her lower lip jutting out in a way that tugs at my heartstrings. "I wish you didn't have to work," she says, her words simple but laced longing for more time together.
I pull her closer, her small frame fitting perfectly against mine. "I know, sweetheart, I know," I concede, the weight of her wish not lost on me. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to work, too. “I know it's not fun right now. But as soon as Daddy's project is finished, I promise we'll take some time off together. Just the two of us. We can do anything you want. How does that sound?"
Her face lights up at the prospect, a thousand possibilities dancing in her bright eyes. "Can we go to the beach? And build the biggest sandcastle ever?" she asks, her enthusiasm infectious.
"Absolutely," I affirm, my heart swelling with love for this little person who's become the center of my universe. She's been begging to go to the beach for months, and she deserves this trip. "The biggest sandcastle ever. It's a deal."
Her laughter fills the room, a melody that soothes the remnants of the day's complications and reaffirms the priorities that guide my life. No matter what happens—with the Langford Building, with Natalie—Aria and I will be okay. And that's all I need.
CHAPTER 9
NATALIE
Sunday dawns with a promise of respite, a self-imposed day of avoidance and reflection after the confusion Julian stirred within me. It's a day for grounding, for finding my footing amidst the chaos of unpacking my life—both literally and metaphorically.
Jack, ever the supportive older brother, graciously agreed to help me with the less than pleasant task of unpacking. I'm so grateful for him, especially since our parents are otherwise indisposed, gallivanting around Europe on a second honeymoon. But I can't say I blame them. I would also rather be in Europe than in my grown daughter's depressing new apartment, sorting through her most recent failure.
At least I have Jack, whose life is nearly as boring as mine is. He arrives mid-morning, armed with coffee and a teasing grin. "I was starting to think you actually lived at the Langford Building," he quips as he surveys the sea of boxes that still clutter my new apartment.
I laugh, accepting the coffee with gratitude. “Yeah, well, at least I'm getting paid to clean up that mess," I jest, knowing full well that the neglect of my personal space is a reflection of my scattered focus of late.
As we dive into the task of unpacking, the air fills with the comfortable banter that only siblings can share. Each box we open is a gamble, some revealing long-forgotten treasures, others baffling relics of past decisions. "Why on earth did I keep this?" I laugh, holding up a particularly hideous lamp that looks like it was a reject from a 1970’s garage sale.
Jack snorts, taking the lamp from me and setting it aside with exaggerated care. "Are you kidding? This is clearly the most valuable thing you own. Wouldn't want to accidentally drop it in a dumpster."
I roll my eyes at his lame sarcasm. “Are you gonna help me unpack or not?”
“Only if you tell me what’s going on with you and Julian.”
His words, startlingly direct, are totally unexpected.
I pause, heart stuttering. “He’s working on the Langford Building,” I answer, trying my best to sound disinterested. “The construction team. Did you know he had a daughter?”
Jack sighs as he drags over a new box, revealing a mess of hastily packed kitchen towels. “Yeah, her name is Aria. She’s what, six or seven now? We don’t talk much anymore. We’ve got our own lives, and the guy’s been through a lot. Things are just…different.”
I pull another box towards me, this one marked junk. While I struggle to break it open, I say, “You two used to be so close. You wanted to go off to college together and everything. Part of me thought if you'd actually gone, you'd come back married to each other at some point.”
They’d been two years above me in school. Not a lot, but enough that I’d felt a pang of disappointment when Julian had talked about going to college in New York, but neither of them were accepted. That’s what jump-started Julian to join the military instead.
“College might not have been for me,” Jack says, ignoring my jest. “But I’m doing all right for myself now. It’s not my fault colleges don’t look for my type of unique genius.”
His grin breaks through the tension, bringing laughter to my lips. I shove a box his way, nudging his shoulder on my way, and hoping his curiosity about Julian has now been satisfied.
Our laughter is cooling, smoothing over the jagged edges of recent upheavals. The lightness fades as we come across a box that's unmistakably from a different chapter of my life—one I thought I had closed. Hayden's belongings, items left behind in the wake of our broken engagement, stare back at me from the open box, a reminder of the pain and confusion that led me back to my hometown.
The room falls silent, the previous joviality replaced by a heavy solemnity. Jack's expression softens, his earlier teasing giving way to concern. "Nat, you don't have to go through that now," he offers, reaching out to close the box.
I shake my head, a determined set to my jaw. "No, it's time I deal with this. It's been hanging over me for too long." My voice is steady, but inside, I'm anything but. The presence of Hayden's things, the memories they evoke, it's all a stark reminder of the journey I've taken to get here, to this moment of reclaiming my life and space.
Jack nods, understanding my need for closure, and stands by silently, offering support as I sift through the remnants of a relationship that nearly broke me.
As I delve deeper into the box, it becomes a timeline of Hayden's presence in my life. Books he’d left unfinished, odds and ends left at my place over the years, each item a breadcrumb of a past I'm trying to move beyond. It's clear now that in the haze of my departure, I'd packed these remnants indiscriminately, not ready to sift through the memories they held.
