Page 116 of October
Alice looked at both of us suspiciously, like we were trying to keep the best game a secret from her. "Can I play?"
"Maybe later," October said, sliding off the bed and gently guiding her toward the door. "Right now, why don't you go check on Lola? I think Jimmy made her breakfast."
"He did," Alice said proudly. "He said 'Madam, your juice awaits,' and bowed like this—" She gave a dramatic, wobbly bow, nearly toppling over.
"Perfect. Go make sure he doesn't drink all the juice."
"Okay!" she chirped, and darted out of the room, slamming the door behind her with all the subtlety of a marching band.
I exhaled loudly, flopping back onto the pillow. "Well. That was terrifying."
October climbed back under the covers, grinning. "You handled it with such grace."
"I was five seconds away from throwing myself out the window."
She kissed my cheek. "Next time, maybe sleep with at least a little dignity."
"Dignity's overrated," I murmured, wrapping my arm around her. Then I burst out laughing. It started with a giggle, half panic, half relief, and then I just let it out, pressing my face into the mattress.
I reached for her hand under the covers. "I know it's chaos. I know we're a mess half the time. But I don't think I've ever been this happy."
She leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Me neither."
Just like that, beneath the muffled sounds of cartoon voices and waffle negotiations drifting down the hall, and broken stuff, I felt it again, pride, contentment, the overwhelming certainty that despite the madness, we'd finally built something worth holding onto.
Epilogue 1
Ten years later...
Mom's crying again.
Not the loud kind. Not the shaking kind either. Just quiet, soft tears that keep slipping out no matter how many times she wipes at them with the sleeve of her cardigan. The kind of crying she does when her heart's too full.
Dad has one arm around her, the other hand gripping my shoulder like he's afraid she might disappear if he lets go.
And here I am—Jimmy. Their son. Their oldest. The boy who used to hide in his room when the silence became too much. Now standing in front of them with a ring box in my hand, sweaty palms, and a heart thudding so loud I'm surprised they can't hear it.
"So, as I said, I'm going to propose," I say again, even though they heard me the first time. I needed to say it out loud. Needed to see their faces when I did.
Mom let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sniffly sob. "My baby's all grown up. A whole man now."
I groaned, grinning. "Mom, please. Not themy babyspeech again."
She wiped her eyes, dramatic as ever. "You were just drooling on my shoulder and now you're out here with a career and talking about marriage. How dare you."
I smirked. "Pretty sure I stopped drooling years ago."
She gave me a look. "Debatable."
I laughed. "Well, debatable or not, I'm a graphic designer, fully employed, emotionally stable, most days, and hopefully soon-to-be married."
She threw her hands up. "You're... a grown-up! When did that happen?!"
"Somewhere between puberty and paying taxes," I said, nudging her playfully.
She shook her head, smiling through teary eyes. "You're still my baby, no matter how many invoices you send." Her tears only fall harder, and I feel something loosen in my chest. Something warm and weighty all at once. Because they earned this moment. We all did.
There was a time it could've gone the other way.
