Page 102 of You, with a View

Thomas smacks my leg. “We’re your safe space.”

“We’re a place for you to unload,” Sadie adds. “Your parents don’t know what happened, so you have to wear a mask with them. With Theo, it’s this new, bright, exciting thing, and you just spent a weekend together after areallyemotionally heavy trip, so you want it to be magical. It’s a normal response. You’re purging some of the stuff you’ve had to compartmentalize.”

I let out a breath, gulping down a mouthful of wine. “I guess that makes sense. It’s been a lot. And I truly have no idea if Dad is going to be upset about where I’ve been and why, or if he’ll understand. This trip was mine, but the loss is all of ours, you know? All of the details I got are. He’s in a better place now than he was six months ago, but how do I know that his grief can handle it?”

“You won’t know until you tell him, and the sooner you tell him, the better,” Thomas says. “You know how he is. He idolized Gram and Grandpa Joe’s relationship, so the thought of you palling around with some guy Gram almost married right before Grandpa may be weird. But he also knows how special your relationship with Gram was, and the fact that you’re getting back into your photography is sending him to the moon. While you were gone, he wouldn’t shut up about how proud he was of you for starting up again.”

My eyes start to fill. He flicks my cheek lightly to stop it, like he did when we were kids and I’d get all wound up to cry. I smack his hand away, likeIalways did. But his distraction works.

His eyes drift toward the clock meaningfully. It’s eight. By the time I get home, our parents will be in bed, and that’s by design. “For real, Noelle. You should talk to him tomorrow. Dad loves you and he’ll support you, even if he doesn’t understand at first.”

“I don’t want to hurt him. With the story, I mean.”

He appraises me. “You’re the one who’s the most invested. At the end of the day, Gram had a happy life with Grandpa Joe, and that’s what’ll matter to Dad.”

“Ugh, you’re right. I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” I say. Thomas lifts his eyebrows. “Iwill.I promise. No more delaying.”

“Let’s move on to the next item of business,” Sadie says. “Are things serious with Theo?”

Even hearing his name makes my stomach swoop.

“It’s early, but...” I lift my shoulders helplessly. “It kind of feels like it’s headed in that direction. I mean, don’t go ordering that couch, Mas, but—”

Thomas scoffs. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m saying that because you can’t be in love with a person after a matter of weeks,” I argue. And even if I feel it, it’s not something I can say out loud right now.

Is Theo getting there, too? Does he want that? In so many ways now, I feel like I know him. Like we get each other, and the connection we’re building is headed for something that can reallyonlybe love.

“You just spent a cumulative...” Sadie trails off, counting in her head, her lips moving silently. “Three hundred and thirty-six hours, give or take some time for sleeping—”

“When you were doing that separately,” Thomas adds. “Plus you’ve known this guy for years.”

“Great point,” Sadie says, beaming at my brother. “That’s a lot of quality time. It’s reasonable you’d catch intense feelings.”

Thomas nods, elbowing me in the ribs. “Yeah, and it’s possible anyway. I fell in love with Sadie right away.”

Her cheeks pink up, even as she rolls her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

They start to lean around me for a kiss, but I push at both their shoulders. “No, no, no. Kiss on your own time. And not right now, either. I’m hangry.”

“It’s your own fault for wanting to come over so late,” Thomas mutters, but he leaps up, heading for the kitchen.

Sadie and I stand together. She wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing me tight. “I’m so excited for you. You’ve got a lot of exciting things coming around the bend.”

I rest my cheek against her temple. “Yeah. I think I do.”

I spend most of the day Monday editing pictures, updating my online shop with new prints, and organizing orders that have been placed. I’m nowhere near a point where I can make a living doing this, but it’s a goal worth driving toward.

I still have to create my end-of-trip TikTok, but I’m not in that emotional space yet, so I answer comments and DMs instead, focusing on the ones where people tell stories of their own grandparents, their moms and dads, siblings, or found family members who’ve impacted their lives the way Gram did mine. The way Theo and Paul have, too.

A swell of pride sits on top of the more obvious emotions as I respond to the messages—grief, always, and nostalgia—knowing that my work has started these conversations, that people connectwith it. That they see themselves in it. It’s what’s always drawn me to art; that it can be simultaneously so personal and so intensely universal.

The house is quiet with my parents at work, but it doesn’t feel lonely like it did before. I’m focused, barely stopping for lunch. Before I know it, the sun is slicing through my window, glinting against the metal back of my computer.

After grabbing a snack, I settle back at my desk, picking up my phone to check if I have a text from Theo. I FaceTimed him early this morning to wish him luck. He was quiet, maybe a little distracted, but who could blame him? Walking back into a shitstorm after two weeks off could fell even the most stoic person.

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