Page 125 of Love You Madly

The night continues with a steady stream of laughter, snacks, and several questionable choices from Taylor’s collection of random spa products. Thankfully, my niece, Ava, has done a wonderful job keeping Sara and Lexi entertained so we can have our “boring grown-up time,” as she called it, before ushering the girls into the playroom to watch a movie.

“Okay, now that the kids are occupied and Ava won’t be traumatized by my adult drama,” Taylor says, glancing nervously toward the hallway to make sure the coast is clear, “I’ve got a confession to make.”

The room falls silent as we all turn our attention to her. Taylor, who’s usually the one doling out snarky comments and keeping things light, suddenly looks more serious, her expression wavering between nervous and hopeful. She pulls her face mask off in one quick swipe, tossing it aside like she’s shedding a layer of pent-up stress.

Taylor chews her lip, fidgeting with the edge of her punchcup. “Okay, so… I don’t completely hate Nick.” Her voice is barely a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter whatever fragile truth she’s holding onto. “Ava’s dad, Nick. We’ve, um… kind of been talking again.”

Brooke’s eyes widen in surprise, nearly dropping the nail polish brush she’s been using on Olivia’s toes. “Oh my god, Tay, are you serious? Like… talking talking?”

Taylor nods, a little sheepishly. “Yeah. It started with co-parenting stuff, you know, for Ava. But then it kind of… evolved? We’ve been texting more, and he’s been showing up to Ava’s soccer games, and not just the ones he’s scheduled to be at. And—don’t freak out—but we went to dinner last week. Alone.”

Olivia gasps, clutching her heart like she’s watching a soap opera unfold. “Wait, are we talking ‘dinner dinner’ or like, ‘we’re still pretending to be mature co-parents dinner?’”

Taylor groans, burying her face in her hands for a moment before peeking through her fingers. “It was ‘dinner dinner.’ As in, no kids, actual adult conversation, and he paid.”

I can’t help but smile at Taylor’s admission. I always loved Nick and was sad for both him and my sister when they splitup. “How did it feel?” I ask gently, giving her space to sort through her tangled emotions.

Taylor sighs, the kind of deep, conflicted exhale that says more than words can. “It was… good. Really good, actually. But I don’t know. Part of me feels like an idiot for even considering it, you know? Like, what if we just end up right back where we started, with him flaking out and me feeling like I’m holding the pieces together on my own?”

Meredith, ever the pragmatist, speaks up. “People can change, Tay. I mean, sometimes they don’t, but sometimes they do. And if he’s showing up and making an effort, that’s not nothing.”

Brooke nods, reaching out to squeeze Taylor’s hand. “You’ve got to do what feels right for you and Ava. And hey, it’s okay to not completely hate him. It doesn’t mean you’re committing to anything right now. Just take it one step at a time.”

Taylor’s eyes flicker with uncertainty, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—maybe relief at finally saying it aloud. “I just don’t want Ava to get her hopes up, you know? She’s already been through enough. And I don’t want to be that mom who gets caught up in some wishful thinking and drags her kid along for the ride.”

Olivia sighs, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Look, you’re an amazing mom. And you’re also allowed to figure things out without having all the answers upfront. If Nick is stepping up and proving himself, that’s worth paying attention to. And if it doesn’t work out, Ava’s got a mom who loves her more than anything.”

Taylor nods slowly as if letting the words settle over her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

I reach over and give her a gentle nudge. “And if it gets too complicated, we’ve got your back. We can scare him off with more of Brooke’s divorce cakes or something equally passive-aggressive.”

Everyone laughs, the tension breaking as Taylor wipes the last bit of mask residue from her cheeks. “Thanks, guys. Seriously. I needed this.”

Meredith raises her punch glass again. “To messy lives, complicated feelings, and friends who are willing to make fools of themselves to keep you sane.”

As laughter fills the room again, I realize I’m not just starting over; I am finally finding the strength to choose happiness—for Sara, for my friends, and for myself.

part three

fifty-four

SLOW MOTION - TREY SONGZ

OWEN - AUGUST 22, 2013

Afeeling of contentment washes over me as I pull into the driveway. Tonight marks my first official evening living with Callie and Sara. I linger in the truck for a moment, allowing the stress of a long workday to fade away.

When I step inside, I’m greeted with the comforting smell of the spiced apple candles Callie loves to burn mixed with something else, something sweeter. The scent lingers in the air, and I realize she must have been baking something earlier. Judging by the lack of baked goods on the counter, I’m going to guess things didn’t go according to plan.

I can almost picture her here in the kitchen, fussing over every detail. She has always insisted she’s a terrible cook, but lately, she’s been trying to learn more—testing out new recipes as well as her patience. Sometimes, she will even text me pictures of her “experiments.” It’s charming, the way she wants to get things just right. No matter the outcome, eacheffort feels like a piece of her she’s offering up, making me fall for her that much more.

As I round the corner to the living room, I find my beautiful girlfriend on the couch with Sara nestled beside her, the two of them bathed in the soft light from the TV. Callie looks up as I walk in, and there’s a smile on her face that makes the long day worth it—a smile that feels like coming home.

“Hey,” she whispers, careful not to wake Sara, who’s teetering on the edge of sleep. She must not have napped today. Sara’s tiny hand clutches the hem of Callie’s shirt, her little body curled up against her like she never wants to let go.

“Hey,” I reply, leaning down to kiss Callie’s forehead. The warmth of her skin under my lips is familiar, grounding, and I can’t help but press another kiss to Sara’s forehead, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of baby shampoo. These little moments—the everyday moments that might otherwise seem unremarkable—remind me why all of this is worth it. They’re not just Callie and Sara anymore; they’re my family.

“How was work?” Callie asks as she shifts slightly, making room for me on the couch.

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