I turn to her, trying to hide my smile. It’s become downright impossible not to look at Bailey without smiling. Even when she is a ball of stress. “Come here, sugar tits.”
Her eyes roll, and she lets out a beleaguered sigh, but she steps into me anyway. She keeps her arms where they are and drops her head right to my chest. “You need to come up with a better nickname.”
“Absolutely never.” Her forehead rolls back and forth against my chest as I wrap my arms around her. “Bailey, stop stressing.”
“I can’t. I don’t want them to hate me.”
That gives me pause. “Why would my family hate you?”
“I don’t know. You all are Chestnut Springs royalty. It’s like you’re with the banished pariah, and are choosing to live in exile with me over staying with your family.”
My chest shakes with silent laughter, and she slaps my shoulder. “It’s not funny! What if I change? What if we change and you’ve given everything up for me?”
I squeeze her tighter. “Bailey, Bailey, Bailey. You will change. You’re … ugh. Saying your age out loud makes me feel old.”
“You are old,” she quips, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“You’re twenty-two. You start university in six weeks. Of course you’re going to change. Nobody stays the same at your age, and in my case, thank fucking god, cause you’d have hated twenty-two-year-old me.”
She laughs and I carry on. “And we’ll change. And we’ll have difficulties. Because that’s life. You don’t recognize the highs without the lows, sugar. I’ve changed too.” I grip her shoulders and nudge her away from me to look her in the eye. “That’s how I knew you were it. That’s how I know I’ll love you in every version of yourself, because we’re all constantly changing. Growing. Becoming.”
“I’ll register for a philosophy class if I want one, soldier,” she says, swiping at her big, glittering eyes.
“Bailey, shut up and listen to me.” She chuckles softly with another eye roll before giving me back her full attention. “You fill me with purpose. Lifting you up gives me a reason. Seeing you smile makes me feel whole. And I’m never going to apologize for that. We’re symbiotic, you and me. Without you, this version of me doesn’t exist. Without the next version of you, the next version of me doesn’t exist either. We’re going to grow together.”
“You’re fucking my makeup up, Eaton,” she murmurs dryly, wiping a stray tear off her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
I just smile. She needs to hear these things so badly, be reassured of them over and over. And I’m happy to do it. “You asked me who I wanted to be once, and it’s this. Me. Right here. Right now. With you.”
All she can manage is a nod and a sniffle. “Okay. I have no poetic response to that. Other than yes, please, sir.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
Her hands land on my cheeks, and she rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I love you, soldier,” she whispers as she pulls away.
“You fuckin’ better.” I kiss her back now, lifting her against me and giving her a tight squeeze. The tension seeps out of her. And when I put her back down, we stare at each other. It’s been a wild couple of years in my life, but worth every hardship to be standing here looking down at this woman.
“Ready to host our first Eaton family dinner?” I ask.
She nods, appearing stronger already. “You ready to tell them you’re moving here permanently?”
I snap my feet together and give her my best salute.
It makes her laugh.
And that makes me feel whole.
The house is full. Bustling. Loud. Warm. Chatter fills the space with life. Long, dark, quiet days spent in a cave, thinking I’d never make it out, feel so far away they hardly seem real. Even in my childhood home, I felt like I was stuck in a cave. And now it’s like a trippy dream I once had.
The mind works in mysterious ways.
Bailey sits on one side of me, hand on my thigh, chatting away with Summer. But it’s Winter, to my right, who watches carefully. Her fiancé, Theo, holds their daughter, Vivi, on his lap, chatting with Harvey and Cordelia.
I barely hear the woman beside me when she murmurs, “I’m really happy for you, Beau.”
I lean over slightly toward Winter. “Is that a medical diagnosis?”
Her lips curve up, but her face remains mostly impassive. “No, I’m not your doctor. Just a friend who’s been worried about you.”