“Really amazing.”
And then I burst into tears.
* * *
I’ve just spilled my guts to Thomas and Sadie—every detail of the trip, every grief-ridden and healing thought I’ve had about Gram, that intense psychic reading, my fear of telling Mom and Dad what I’ve been up to, and, sans sex details, what’s happened with Theo.
“The really questionable thing is,” Thomas says, leaning forward to uncork the emergency wine he grabbed for us as soon as I started crying, “I knew you were going to fall for Theo and I still made that bet. I have to buy a couch, dammit.”
“The really questionable thing is betting against me, period.” I let out a breath, then groan. “God, I have no idea why I cried like that. I’m actually fine.”
Sadie rubs my leg. “Permission to psychoanalyze?”
“Granted.” I sniff, accepting the glass Thomas hands me. He snakes his arm behind Sadie’s shoulders, his fingers just long enough to squeeze my shoulder, too.
“I know you’re fine, but you’ve also had a really emotional couple of weeks,” Sadie says. “Do you feel like you ever got a chance to process your gram’s death?”
I go back to that first month, where I essentially shuttled myself between work and my apartment. How I couldn’t look at pictures of her or hear her voice in voicemails. How I stopped going out with my friends because they’d ask how I was doing in that specific “you’re grieving and I’m uncomfortable but have to ask or I’ll look like a dick” tone of voice. Those months I spent staring at my camera, at the walls of my childhood bedroom, at the views from the hikes Gram and I took together.
“No.” For the first time I realize it’s true.
Thomas stands and moves around the couch, settling in next to me and ruffling my hair.
Sadie continues, “A while back, I ran across an article about this thing called grief trips. When you lose someone, you travel—maybe to their favorite place or a place that brings you peace or somewhere brand-new to shake yourself out of your routine—and you get to process that way.” She leans forward, catching my eye. “That’s what this was for you, I think. You had this story unraveling with Paul, these emotional letters, and it was a way for you to focus on your grief in a controlled way. And at the same time, you had some joy in your life with Theo.”
“That doesn’t explain my outburst.”
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 a really emotionally 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, like I always 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. “I will. 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 really only be 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.