Page 78 of Blurred Lines

My knuckles are white-hot around the steering wheel, the leather cool and slick against my clammy palms. We're a blur of flashing road signs and scenery, the tires whispering a frantic hiss against the asphalt. Caleb's in the passenger seat, phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Finn, ever the optimist, is drumming out a chaotic beat on the dashboard, a manic grin plastered on his face.

"Are you sure we can just walk away from all of it, Silas?" he yells over the roaring engine. "What about the baby? What about Em?"

I glance at him in the rearview mirror, catching the wild glint in his eyes. "What do you want me to do, Finn? Ram the car back through the gates and declare myself King Dad?"

He throws his hands up, exasperation battling with amusement. "Maybe not king, but at least … something! We can't just abandon her."

"We're not abandoning her," Caeleb cuts in, his voice low and strained. "We're respecting her wishes."

He looks at his phone again, a deep frown etching lines on his forehead. I steal a peek, my heart leaping into my throat. It's a picture—the one we took, the three of us with Emily, our faces plastered with goofy grins. But it's the caption below that hits me like a sucker punch.

"Caeleb," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "Read it out loud."

He hesitates, then speaks the words slowly, each one a balm to the churning mess in my gut.

Three amigos, one momma. Turns out happily ever after can come in messy packages. Wouldn't trade these goofballs for the world. They make every day an adventure. Love you more than pizza (and that's saying something)!

No, but in all honesty, so what if my forever is with three men? So what if I've found something that allows me to be at my happiest, best, loved, safe, respected, and vulnerable self? Isn't that what all of us ache for—a space where we can be our unfiltered best?

I've had my share of grief. Grief is a big neon sign, protruding through everything, broadcasting loudly, "Love was here, love still is." There's so much love in me. In all of us.

In my case, the blurred lines obscuring my vision have finally lifted. I can see what I want, clearer than ever. The best thing? What I want also wants me back with equal force, amplified times three.

Maybe it would be better, for the world as a whole, to admit our truths and to show love the way it suits us best. I've found mine, I hope you do too.

#blessed #foundmytribe

My breath catches. Emily loves us. All of us. A warmth spreads through me, battling the cold dread that's been clinging to me since we left.

Then, Finn breaks the tension. "So, what does this mean?"

We exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between us. The answer is clear. We may not be the picture-perfect family Emily envisioned, but that doesn't mean we can't be a part of hers.

With a newfound determination, I slam on the brakes, throwing the car into a screeching U-turn. The tires squeal in protest, but I don't care. We're going back.

"Hold on, boys!" I yell, a grin splitting my face. "We've got a momma to comfort and a baby to celebrate."

The car lurches forward, the mansion growing larger in the rearview mirror with every passing second. The future is uncertain, messy even, but right now, all I can think about is the fierce love for the woman who brought us all together, and the little miracle growing inside her.

And that's enough. For now, that's more than enough.

We pull up to the mansion, the imposing gates and manicured lawns mocking the chaos roaring inside me. Before anyone can protest, I'm out the door, slamming it behind me and striding across the grounds.

The house is eerily silent as I burst through the front door. A trail of discarded tissues leads me to the kitchen, and there she is. Emily. My—our—Emily. Her shoulders shake with muffled sobs, her hands clenched in her lap. The sight of her, usually so bright and vibrant, reduced to this shattered state twists a fresh wave of pain through me.

Without a word, I cross the room and sweep her into a fierce hug. For a long moment, she stiffens, then collapses against me, her tears soaking through my shirt. I hold her, rocking slightly, whispering meaningless words of comfort into her hair.

"Em," I choke out finally, pulling back slightly so I can see her face. "We saw the picture. Your post."

She sniffs and swipes at her tear-streaked cheeks, her beautiful eyes still swimming with a mix of misery and defiance. "Figured you'd hate me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hate you?" I laugh, a bitter sound. "Em, we're idiots. We love you. We were scared."

My words hang in the air, heavy and fragile. Then, slowly, a flicker of hope sparks in her eyes.

"I want it all," she breathes, her voice trembling slightly. "I want chaos and mess and love. I want you guys, all three of you, and this baby. I want us to be a big, happy, completely strange family."

The relief that rushes through me nearly knocks me off my feet. I grin like a fool, a rush of joy erasing the lingering tension.

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