Page 42 of Yours, Now and Always
He steps in close, runs a knuckle down my arm. “You good?”
I nod, but I know that doesn’t come anywhere near close to covering it. And since Gage and I always do raw honesty, I give that to him now.
“I don’t know how I got here,” I whisper. “Not just here to Blackbriar. But to all of this. Us. The girls. This whole—” I motion at the kitchen, toward the door everyone just walked through “—life.”
His hand slides to the small of my back as I keep talking.
“I think part of me is still waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and say I overstayed. That this kind of love and family doesn’t belong to me.”
Gage’s eyes don’t soften. They go sharper. Fierce in that quiet way he gets when something matters. “You think this happened without you?” His voice is full of conviction. Not one single doubt. “None of this works without you, Amelia. You didn’t just walk into this life. You shaped it. Made it with me. Every damn part of it.”
He pulls me in close.
My hands find his shirt and I grip it. The place I always reach for when I need to feel anchored.
And he lets me.
Just breathes with me. Holds me in the way he knows I need.
I don’t say thank you.
I don’t need to.
He knows.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. “Let’s go eat with our people.”
CHAPTER 16
AMELIA
I’m at a table with fourteen people, four kinds of cheese, a brass candelabra that definitely wasn’t here this morning, and a deck of moon-themed oracle cards Marin laid out for “vibrational support and centerpiece aesthetics.”
The long wood table stretches through a clearing just beyond the back of the house, surrounded by mossy trees and scattered wildflowers. Overhead, thick vines and trailing florals form a canopy, weaving through hidden rigging that’s attached to wooden poles spaced around the table. Chandeliers dangle between branches, catching the afternoon light like they’re part of the forest now. Lanterns glow gold. Taper candles flicker down the table in mismatched holders, casting soft shadows over linen napkins and vintage glassware. Blankets are folded across the backs of chairs, warm and cozy. And overhead in the canopy, nearly invisible, Gage’s discreet heating panels keep the whole space warm without losing the crisp autumn air.
It's wild and beautiful. A little messy. A little magical. The perfect setup for a family lunch that’s definitely going off the rails in the best possible way.
Luna just asked if fairy queens can officiate weddings. Marin is casually microdosing us with flower magic. And Tim made place cards that include everyone’s “wedding role.”
Marin is the “Keeper of the Vibe.” Because obviously. Tim’s words, not mine.
Hayden is the “Designated Secret-Keeper of Drunken Truths.” Tim thinks Hayden knows everything and will take it all to the grave.
Olivia is the “Emotional First Responder” because she doesn’t ask if you’re okay; she already knows and responds accordingly.
And my personal favorite? Kristen is the “Guardian of Obsessed Men in Suits” because the Black brothers’ jawlines could start a small war according to my brother, and he has declared Kristen as the one who is able to reel them all in when necessary.
Amid all of this, Gage and his brothers have been having a disturbingly serious conversation about fantasy football strategy like we’re not surrounded by candles, flowers, and a crystal bundle that Maddie said Marin placed here for “collective energetic alignment.”
Gage is beside me, one hand resting on my thigh, a silent claim he never lifts.
Down the table, I catch flashes of our families. Little moments I want to press into a photo album just so I never forget how this feels.
Kristen’s sipping wine while quietly regulating Bradford’s cheese intake with every flick of her gaze.
Olivia and Callan are doing that thing they do where he tries the food first, then forks over a bite for her without a word, already knowing the verdict because apparently that man has a PhD in his wife’s taste buds.
Further down the table, Ethan’s crouched beside Sarah, showing her how to hold his camera steady while explaining aperture. She’s asking questions faster than he can answer them, eyes bright, fingers twitching to be in charge. Ethan looks like he’s found a new religion. Most wouldn’t guess that the rebel Black brother is a giant nerd with a bookshelf organized by philosophical theme, and the kind of patience that makes him a natural with kids. Sarah’s loving every second of it. And my heart is held hostage by it.
