A moment later, Riley appears beside us, clapping slowly. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says dramatically, “The man has feelings.”
I roll my eyes. “Riley, this is Violet. My girlfriend.”
That word feels good leaving my mouth.
Violet glances at me, clearly catching the significance of it, and a small smile curves across her lips.
Riley grins and extends a hand. “So, you’re the woman responsible for this guy finally smiling again.”
Violet shakes his hand. “I try.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Riley says.
“Hopefully only the good things.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Seeing her here, comfortable, smiling, part of this moment, is like the final piece falling into place.
Henry walks past carrying a giant tub of popcorn. “You gonna stand here talking all night or actually watch a movie?”
Riley perks up. “Now that is the best idea I’ve heard all evening.”
I glance toward the screening room doors where the first movie has already started. “You wanna watch one?”
Violet’s eyes light up. “Absolutely!”
In that moment, surrounded by the town that raised me, the family who stood beside me, and the woman I love. It feels like everything has finally come together.
The theater lights dim slightly as the next movie begins. But the warmth in my chest only grows brighter. Because this isn’t just the opening night of the theater.
It is the beginning of the rest of my life.
Six Months Later Everett
It has been a whirlwind six months, but somehow everything is working out.
I rub the back of my neck, staring at the house I’ve finally made ours, the blue house I purchased a few weeks ago. It is cozy, with enough space for me, Violet, and eventually Emily when she comes to visit Lavender Creek. I’d spent a couple of weeks making small adjustments, repainting, making it feel lived-in and like home, layering in little touches that weren’t just for me, but for my girls.
Violet’s favorite candle, lavender and vanilla, sits on the counter. Her favorite body lotion is in the bathroom. A few framed prints I noticed in her apartment, I found similar ones that are now on the walls, along with a few framed photos of us on the mantel. Everything is meant to whisper,you belong here.
I glance at my phone, seeing the text from Violet.
Violet:
On my way, have you eaten yet?
I smile. She has this way of making the mundane feel exciting.
I’d been waiting for this moment, gathering courage and notes from months of quiet observation: the way she organized her kitchen, the throw blanket she always curled up in, the books she read before bed. Small things, but I wanted her to feel at home the second she walked through the door. I wanted it to be unmistakable. This is our home, not just mine.
I have already made a few trips back to LA to see Emily. She was shy at first, but slowly, she began to open up. Video calls a few times a week became check-ins, jokes, and small confessions about her day. Sydney and I have learned how to navigate boundaries, and honestly, she’s become someone I respect and trust. Her fiancé, a chef at a local LA restaurant, even came to a couple of Riley’s baseball games with us, making the whole co-parenting thing feel less complicated.
But now, this is about Violet.
I straighten the throw pillows for the third time, run my hands over the kitchen counter, and rehearse what I am going to say. I need this to feel right. I need her to know that I’m not just asking her to move in, I’m asking her to keep building a life with me, with Emily.
The door clicks open, and my heart skips a beat.
