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Greer finished loading the glasses. “We’re almost done anyway,” she said. “Cameron is helping Ivy with your clothes. I think Jax was doing some yard work, Ian was going to hook up your TV, and Mom went back to the house to watch Sage and Olive and make some dinner. Do you want to join us or bask in your empty house without all of us watching your every move?”
An empty house, I thought with a bone-melting sigh of relief.
I’d have an empty house every single night.
The sisters heard that sigh too, and their smug, knowing grins widened into something else.
They were happy for me.
Adaline squeezed my arm. “Enjoy it,” she whispered, kissing me on the temple.
We worked in the kitchen, finishing up the last box, and I wandered upstairs to find Ivy flattening the last of the wardrobe boxes. “All done.”
I stared at my closet with my mouth hanging open. “Holy shit, Ivy. How am I ever going to keep it looking like this?”
Cameron gave her a look. “See? I told you.”
Ivy sniffed. “It’s a highly logical organization system, and you are the kind of person to appreciate it, so don’t even pretend you don’t.” She swept her hands over each section of clothes. “Sleeveless here, then short sleeved, then long sleeved, then dresses, grouped by color within a subsection. In the mood to wear a black sweater?” Ivy did her best Vanna White impression. “Look no further. How about a purple tank top? It’s right here.”
“You are very impressive,” I told her. “Thank you.” Then I smacked my brother’s arm. “And you zip it, just because you’ve never organized anything in your entire life.”
“Except his toolbox,” Ivy whispered. “He’s really particular about that. I borrowed one of those wrenchy things once and put it back in the wrong spot and it was a whole ordeal.”
Cameron rolled his eyes, gently setting his hands on her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go see if Ian needs help downstairs. Plugging in that TV might tax his brain too much.”
Ivy laughed, and they left me alone in my bedroom. I could tell Greer had spent some time in here because it was the room that looked the most finished. The soft white bedding was perfectly fluffed, a furry blanket draped just so along the foot of the bed. A mountain of pillows in different shades of white and cream looked so inviting I almost cried.
Above the bed, she’d mounted the framed painting she’d done for me when she was in art school, a watercolor of mountains and towering green trees, an abstract representation of what we’d see from the front porch at Mom and Dad’s house. And on my dresser, a framed picture of the whole family a few weeks before Dad died.
My eyes filled with tears as I traced the image of his face. He was so thin, so tired, and so happy.
“I wish you could see all this, Dad,” I whispered.
And for the first time, I had a breath-stealing thought. If he’d still been alive, it was entirely possible that none of this would have happened.
Not my night with Jax.
Not the baby.
This house or Dean or the tension with my siblings. The house that already felt like it was mine down to my bones.
None of it.
There’d be no building of this messy, little life. No glimpses of a future that I could see without trying very hard.
And the force of how wrong that all felt, to eventhinkit, had my knees feeling weak. With my hand gripping the edge of the dresser, I tried to breathe steadily, because the last thing I needed was to toss myself straight into a existential panic attack.
If I’d gone home from that date and had my dad to talk to … I never would have gone to Jax’s. Never would have talked myself into that, hanging that decision on the precipice of avoiding regrets.
There was nothing I’d undo about this. Not one piece, no matter how unclear things seemed, how quickly they changed, and how much it was forcing me to learn about myself.
No matter how much this was tilting my nicely planned world on its head.
The baby executed a strong kick, and I pressed the tips of my fingers to the side of my belly.
“You are worth everything,” I whispered. They moved again, and I laughed. “You’ve been quiet today, huh?” I rubbed my palm over the press of a little foot or an elbow or something, wondering how much they could feel when I pushed back. “I know, it’s a lot of excitement.”
I tilted my head back, willing the tears to go back the hell wherever they came from.
