Page 96
Jamie laughs. “That’s gotta be Simon. You could never handle a change like that too fast.”
“I’m handling a lot of fast changes just fine. Thank you very much.”
“Speaking of changes,” Brittney cuts in. “I saw Simon talking to Dad earlier. Out by the garage.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “He’s… kinda already hinted about proposing soon.” I exhale.
Jamie’s eyebrows go up. “Wow, that’s quick.”
“These two have been a ticking time bomb since the day they met,” Brittney says, waving around a carrot stick. “This already feels slow. I would be surprised if they aren’t announcing another baby Thomas-Crane in the next year. Or I guess just Crane?”
I glance back over at Theo.
His full legal name is Theodore Riley Thomas-Crane. It’s hyphenated because I wanted my child to have my name too. It would make sense to look into the process for changing his name if we’re going to be getting married.
“It feels a little quick,” I admit. “But it feels right. I’ve waited so long to have him in my life like this that it feels like it’s been a slow ride.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Simon
The house looks like it lost a war against a hoard of small children.
Wrapping paper in drifts. A paper crown in the sink. Cilantro in places cilantro should not be. The balloon arch gave up around three. Someone’s juice box is under the couch. The taco bar is a crime scene. There is frosting on the wall. I don’t know how there is frosting on the wall.
Theo lasted until the second-to-last kid left, then face-planted on the living room rug in his taco shirt, cast tucked in, one sock still missing. I carried him to his room and just left him like that because I’m about 20 minutes away from joining him.
Blaire is in the kitchen with her hair up, trying to get everything back in order faster than possible. She’s been too stressed out with the move lately, but fights me every time I try to take something off her plate.
“I got the dishes,” I tell her, settling my hands on her waist. “He’s asleep in his room.”
She sighs like she wants to argue, then glances at the living room and concedes. “Alright, I’m going to start on the living room.”
“Or you could sit down for five minutes.”
“I’ll sit down when the house doesn’t look like this.”
Of course she will.
I kiss the back of her head before letting her go. “Leave the trash bags. I’ll take them out.”
“I can—”
“Blaire.”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder but doesn’t finish the sentence.
I turn back to the sink as she disappears into the living room. I’m elbow deep in rinsing off dishes and loading up the dishwasher when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting someone calling because their kid left something here.
Unknown number.
I almost let it go to voicemail, but something in my gut twists—instinct sharpened by too many years of bad news only ever arriving by phone. Deployment orders. An accident. Something that could ruin everything right when it’s starting to feel good again. I swipe to answer anyway. “Hello?”
There’s a pause on the other end, long enough that I almost hang up.
“Simon…” It’s Veronica. Her voice is small, fragile. I’ve never heard it like that.
My heart drops straight into my stomach. I turn on my heel and head for the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me so Blaire and Theo won’t hear. “Veronica?”
