Zephyr79: That’s okay. She drew you a picture. It’s just a red scribble, but it’s supposed to be a car. Act excited.
RacerDude: Cute!! :-) thx August.
Zephyr79: Gotta go, but let me know when you have your first game. We will be there. Proud of you, Owen.
RacerDude: Ur the best. TTYL
Slipping my phone into my back pocket, Melody is standing in front of me when I raise my head. Her knowing smile flashes bright.
“Owen?”
“Yeah. He made the team,” I tell her, unable to hide my own proud grin.
“That’s so wonderful. I knew he would.” Melody saunters over to me, wobbling a little like Walden does, which is charming as fuck, and leans up to kiss me. It’s sweet and gentle at first, but I clasp her cheeks between my palms, deepening it instantly. She sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out as a squeaky sigh, our tongues touching and tasting, and we lose ourselves for a moment, uncaring of the guests only a few feet away.
A satisfied moan escapes when I pull back, dusting my thumbs along her rouge-stained cheeks. “Mmm. You taste like lemon frosting.”
“I got hungry,” she whispers back, caressing our noses together, her eyes glazed and amorous.
Another groan filters through my lips when she grinds up against me. “You’re making me hungry.”
I’m about two seconds away from begging Leah to keep an eye on August so I can borrow my wife for highly important reasons when the doorbell rings again, stealing our opportunity. Electricity still crackles between us, green embers dancing in Melody’s eyes, and she lets me know with just a look that these flames will be stoked again later.
Can’t fucking wait.
But first, it’s time to watch my little girl annihilate a Peppa Pig piñata.
The sun sets low in the sky, highlighting the horizon in a burnt orange blush. It captures my attention for a striking moment, and I reminisce my father’s words from all those years ago.
Fleeting beauty.
The most precious kind.
But as my eyes dip away from the setting sun and take in the blur of smiles, laughter, and joy all around me, I realize something pretty fucking powerful.
It’s all fleeting.
Life, itself, is fleeting.
I watch from a lawn chair perched in the front yard as partygoers disperse, scooping my daughter into strong arms, giving her twirls and kisses, thanking Melody for a spectacular party. West snakes his arm around Leah, kissing her temple, and I see the love between them—despite the tumultuous tide of their relationship, there is affection, and there is love. I kind of want to shake them, tell them to get their shit together and appreciate what they have, because it’s all so fucking fleeting, but I think that kind of awareness can only be learned, not taught.
Melody’s parents wave their goodbyes to me from across the yard, and I smile my send-off. They’ve taken me in and treated me like their own damn kid over the past few years, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I was robbed of that kind of relationship, that special brand of connection that only a mother or father can give. It broke me. It whittled me down to near nothingness, shaping me into someone I didn’t even recognize.
Bree did, though. She saw me—the real me, that little boy buried deep down inside, with a cherry-stained chin, laughter in his eyes, and a strong, worthy heart.
“Eat up, little brother.”
My sister pulls a chair up beside mine, handing me a container of miniature lemon loaves. I eye the offering with a half-smile. “Because my wife didn’t bake enough cake to have us all in permanent carb comas?”
Her acorn eyes glimmer with the glow of the red-yellow sundown. “Lemon cake is the happiest dessert,” she says, her teeth flashing white. “Melody texted me to grab some on the way over because she knows it’s your favorite and she burned them. I couldn’t say no to her twenty-seven sad face emojis.”
“She always gets you with the emojis.” Taking the plastic container from her hands, it crinkles in my grip as I rake my gaze over the treats. My heart swells. “Fuck, I don’t know what I did to deserve that woman.”
Bree shrugs, her coiled tendrils of hair bouncing over her shoulders. “It clearly wasn’t your quality baking abilities.”
I cringe. “Yeah, no. Maybe it was my warm and fuzzy disposition.”
“It definitely wasn’t that either.”
“My endearing personality?”
“Highly doubtful.”
We share a playful grin as the mid-March breeze blows by, fresh and cooling.
Bree reaches over to my chair and places her palm across my chest, patting gently. “It was this. She saw what I’ve always seen.”
My heartbeat skips at the sentiment, and my gaze drifts over to where Melody is wrapped in a warm embrace with Ms. Katherine. The two women pull back with tears glinting in their eyes, a testament to their strong bond and compassionate hearts. August dances around them in a princess crown, waving two glow sticks in tiny fists, her face still sticky with bright pink frosting.
A sigh escapes me, something wistful and pure. “Goddamn, I’m lucky…”
Bree’s fingers trail from my heart to my hand, and she gives it a light squeeze. “It’s not luck, Parker. This was all you.”
I swallow, drinking in the scene before me.
“You built this life, just like you built your home—from the ground up, with careful tools, hard work, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.” Her arm stretches outward, showcasing the fruits of my labor. “You put this here.”
My chest thunders with enlightenment. I did this. I chose this life for myself—this was what was on the other side for me. This was what was shrouded beyond the hurdles of hardship.
My heart.
My hope.
My real home.
The truth is, I never truly had a home until I had her. I had four walls and a place to lay my head, but no place to lay my heart. I planted roots here, but those roots had nowhere to grow. They were stagnant and shriveling.
Wilting.
My life could have gone in so many other directions. I had the power to make different choices, take alternate routes. It would have been so easy to coast along those dark waters until I gave up the fight and let myself drown.
But I chose to swim.
We hold the key to our own happiness, and what we put on the other side of that door is entirely up to us.
Our beginning doesn’t have to be our end.
Bree lets me go and rises from the chair as the final guests depart and Melody saunters over to us with August in her arms and our baby boy in her belly.
“I’m going to take off,” my sister says, meeting Melody halfway and enveloping both girls in a fond hug. “Enjoy the peace.”
She lifts her hand in goodbye as I stand to my feet and wave back. When her car rolls out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires and music fading off as she disappears down the dirt road, I turn to face a smiling Melody.
Her eyes are tired, gleaming with exhaustion, her skin pink from either a hot flash or wind burn. A long, flowing dress tickles her ankles, smeared with fingerpaint and cake. Both braids came loose, leaving her straw blonde hair in a mess of waves and tangles as a crisp wind sends it dancing behind her like a veil.