Page 168 of Built to Fall
And when I emerge, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping down my back, Grant is already sitting on my bed, shirtless with disheveled hair and holding two mugs.
Holding one of them out to me, he says, “Creamer and oat milk with a splash of coffee.”
“Perfect.”
Grant pats the space beside him, and I crawl into it, still in my towel. I’m positive I’m flashing him in some regard, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before.
I want to ask him about Kara so I can get a gauge on how he feels toward the situation, but that can wait for another time.
Right now, I’m relishing this moment.
And it feels better than anything else.
Because I know there’s a version of my life where I get to keep all of this—the boy who stormed into my life and never left, the friends who have begun to feel like sisters, the hopeful sister-in-laws (as they call themselves)—a version where the universe lets me catalog it as a win.
All I can hope is that it’s this one.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
GRANT
After another private jet ride to Martha’s Vineyard and a quiet ride with my family’s driver, Lina and I have made it to The Atlantis.
Over my lifetime, I’ve become immune to these kinds of luxuries. It’s only Lina’s second time arriving with me, so she looks just as awestruck as the first time.
Except this time around, the house is decorated to the nines for Abby’s baby shower.
There are pastel streamers woven through the porch railings, little wooden storks staked into the front lawn, and a welcome sign that says ‘She’s Almost Here!’in glittery gold script. Claire definitely had a hand in that.
Lina stands next to me in silence, taking it all in. Her fingers curl around the strap of her overnight bag. “This is a bit over the top. Don’t you think?” she asks with a smile.
“Oh, just wait until you see inside.” I don’t even have to be in the house to know what kind of extravagance Claire has been planning.
Now, Lina looks even more eager to get in the house, already jogging down the cobblestone path and up the stairs of the wrap-around porch. She waits for me by the front door, and right as I meet her there, I hear the voices in the entryway.
It’s been so long since my sisters and I have all been together at The Atlantis for something other than the anniversary of Mom’s death. And while this is still in part for that occasion, it’s become something more.
Four years ago tomorrow was the worst day of my life. And somehow, it feels almost poetic in a way—like light pouring into a crack instead of widening the break.
We’re commemorating the day of losing our mom’s life with the arrival of a new one. Somehow, we’ve folded the cards we were dealt into something sweeter. Something survivable. Bringing a new life into the family is a monumentally happy moment. One I know Mom would be ecstatic about.
It also goes to prove that Abby didn’t just survive the loss. She made something worth living for.
“They’re here!” Claire’s voice breaks through the noise of my mind as she flings open one side of the wooden double door.
If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed Claire and Abby were Lina’s sisters instead of mine. They rip her inside the house and into one big hug between them. Truly, it’s straight out of a movie.
And despite the surprised yelp Lina lets out at first, the smile that lights up her face makes me feel as if something is being revived in her—like it’s always been there, just buried beneath the surface for some time.
“Guess I’m chopped liver,” I mutter from behind while my sisters drag Lina further into the house.
It’s only once we’re all in the same room that I realize something is different.
Abby—her hair. It’s brown now. Rich, glossy, and natural. It shouldn’t feel significant, except she and Claire have been dyeing their hair the exact same shade of champagne blondesince middle school. It was like some pact they made—always matching, always a team.
But now, she’s let the color go since she got pregnant. Seeing her like this throws me. It’s such a small thing, and yet it makes her feel older. Like she’s already halfway to becoming someone’s mom.
‘That’s because she is,’I have to continually remind myself.
