Page 125 of Trouble from Abroad
I stare at the ceiling and try to count backward from a hundred. Can’t. Instead, I picture Lily blowing out candles with Mia behind her, palms on her little shoulders—then I picture the day where Mia isn’t. My throat tightens.Don’t push, Preston.Fix what you can. Call someone. Find options. But not tonight.
The alarm drags me up too soon. I silence it and hold Mia tighter. We fell asleep with our clothes on, too exhausted to strip or change. I watch her sleep for another couple of minutes and make a quiet promise: I will not let a date on a federal form decide my family’s future.
And I will not scare Mia off by trying to claim her before she’s ready.
There’s time. I make a call just in case.
* * *
Mia’s trying to make herself useful since I got Lily ready for school on my own. She sets the breakfast table while I plate eggs onto toast.
Lily barrels into the kitchen so fast she nearly takes Miaout at the knees. Mia squeaks, steadying the juice pitcher before it tips, and then there’s just a tangle of little arms and brown locks around her waist.
“Miaaa,” Lily sings, muffled against her shirt. “Dad said you’re planning my party!”
Mia bends down, mock serious. “I sure am, boss. Let’s talk themes. Unicorns? Dinosaurs? Glitterextravaganza?”
“All of it,” my daughter answers, eyes wide, drunk on power and possibilities.
Mia blinks. “All of it?”
“Yes.” Lily rises on her toes, eyes brighter than the morning sun. “Actually, unicorns, mermaids,andfairies. Uh… Fart noises too. And manatees. And slime. But the slime has to have glitter.”
“Obviously. Glitter slime or bust.”
Lily jumps in place, shaking her hands. “And bath bombs that make the tub purple. For the party bags. Oh—and a piñata shaped like a toilet.”
I choke on my coffee. Mia, unruffled, snatches a notepad off the counter like she’s being briefed by another one of her billionaire bosses. “Right, so, we’re having a Unicorn-Manatee-Fart-Fairy-Purple-Bath-Bomb-Toilet-Extravaganza?”
“I dare you to say that again,” I tease.
“Easy.” She rattles it off three times without blinking.
Lily shrieks, climbs on her stool, giggling so hard she hiccups. “Can I have cake pops that look like eyeballs? Just like Halloween?”
“Of course you can, love. It’syourday,” Mia says, solemn as a priest, jotting it down. “Eyeball cake pops. Check.”
They’re both glowing. Lily, proud as if she just reinvented birthdays, and Mia, feeding her joy by the spoonful.
And I can’t stop staring at them across the island, wondering how I ever thought life was full without this.
Other parents will hate us. Glitter will outlive us. The toilet piñata will be legendary for all the wrong reasons. And I don’t give a damn.
Because this—this noise, this chaos, this laughter echoing off my walls—is the future I want. Every messy, slime-stained second of it.
Not one day. Not someday. I want it to start now.
I can already see it: Lily racing to Mia with scraped knees. Mia swearing over math homework at the counter. The three of us crammed on the sofa for bad movies. Christmas trees. Sleepovers. College tours. A hundred little futures strung together like fairy lights.
She thinks she’s temporary. A list. A fling.
But Mia’s already woven herself into everything.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
preston
The day isbusy in all the right ways. PT session before sunrise, because of course, Mia rescheduled everything at some point yesterday. My muscles ache, but it’s the kind of ache that screams progress. Therapy right after. I walk out of Beck’s office sharper than I’ve felt in months, but that clarity smears the second my worry for Mia’s time with us crowds in.
