Page 82 of Holiday Friend Zones
LIAM - FIVE YEARS LATER
The morning sun slants through the wide windows of our home, warm and golden, and the salty breeze carries the sound of waves breaking against the shore.Even after a year of living here, I still catch myself pausing just to take it in—our life in Bali feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.
Right now, though, that dream is messy and chaotic as hell.
“Liam, did you pack the kids’ snow boots?”Ava’s voice calls from the other room, a little frazzled, a little bossy, and so goddamn sexy I grin despite the disaster zone around me.
“Working on it!”I yell back, kneeling by our open suitcase.Our daughter’s tiny pink boots are in my hand, our son’s blue pair wedged under the couch for some reason.“Hayden!”I shout, laughing as I drag them out.“Buddy, how did your boots end up under there?”
A small giggle answers me.Our almost four-year-old son peeks around the doorway, his wild curls sticking up in every direction.“Stella hid them,” he announces proudly, pointing to the lazy golden retriever sprawled belly-up in the middle of the room.
“Uh-huh,” I say, scooping him up and swinging him around until he squeals with laughter.“Sure, blame the dog.”
From the bedroom, Ava appears, carrying our two-year-old daughter on her hip.Harlow has her mother’s big brown eyes and my troublemaker grin, which is a dangerous combination.She’s clutching a stuffed moose we bought on a Vermont trip last year, gnawing on its ear as she rests her head on Ava’s shoulder.
The sight of my wife and our daughter stops me cold for a beat.Ava’s hair is loose and sun-streaked, her skin golden from our island life, and there’s a wedding band glinting on her finger—the one I slid there four Christmases ago.
Five years, and I still can’t believe she’s mine.
“Liam,” Ava says with a laugh, catching me staring, “focus.The plane isn’t going to wait for us.”
“I’m focused,” I murmur, setting Hayden down and crossing the room to kiss her.It’s quick, but it lingers just long enough for her cheeks to flush.
We’ve built a beautiful life here in Indonesia.My photography career exploded after a few well-timed gallery showings, and now I work on assignment for National Geographic on a long-term documentary project.Ava freelances as a graphic designer from home, managing clients between beach walks and preschool drop-offs.
But no matter how perfect the sunshine and sand, every December, we go home.Back to Vermont.Back to the snow-dusted square and the cabins side by side.Back to family and friends and the little town where we first figured out that we were so much more than best friends.
As I zip up the last suitcase, Hayden barrels into me, yelling, “Snow!Snow!Snow!”
“You’ll get your snow, buddy,” I promise, ruffling his curls.“Just remember, it’s cold.Like really cold.Not like here.”
He grins, missing tooth on full display.“I like cold!”
Harlow squeals at the sound of her brother’s excitement, wiggling in Ava’s arms until Ava sets her down.The two of them chase each other in circles while Stella barks like she’s part of the game.It’s pure chaos, but it’s ours.
I glance over at Ava, who’s leaning against the doorframe, watching them with the same soft expression I’ve seen a thousand times—the one that makes me fall in love with her all over again.
“Can you believe this?”I ask, my voice low, awed.
She meets my gaze, and her lips curve into the smile that wrecked me years ago.“We have the most beautiful life.I don’t know how we got so lucky.”
I cross the room in three long strides, cupping her face in my hands.“You’ll always be my girl, Ava.Even with all of this—two kids, passports full of stamps, a house by the ocean—you’ll always be that girl I fell in love with under the mistletoe.”
Her eyes shine as she whispers, “And you’ll always be the boy who kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole life to.”
Behind us, Hayden yells, “Daddy!Snow!”again, and Harlow giggles so hard she hiccups.
Ava laughs, brushing away a tear.“Come on.Vermont is waiting.”
I grab the last suitcase and follow my family toward the door.The sun is blazing outside, the air warm and heavy with salt and sea, but in a few hours, we’ll trade it for frostbitten noses and a snowy Christmas.
For family.For tradition.
For the place where our forever began.
As we step outside, I slide my hand into Ava’s, give it a squeeze, and glance back at our island home.My heart is split between two worlds, but as long as she’s beside me, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“Ready, Mrs.Carter?”I ask with a grin.
She squeezes back.“Always, as long as I’m with you.”
And together, with our kids running ahead and laughter trailing behind us, we head toward the next chapter of our beautiful, messy, perfectly imperfect life.
THE END
