Page 283 of Trouble from Abroad
“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.
My to-do list is a mile long, but getting rid of that expiry date is the priority. And it’s not just that. Mia flickers through every thought—between exercises, between conversations, in the spaces where I’m supposed to think about anything but her. Her laugh. The curl that always slips from her messy bun. Even her scribbled lists I find everywhere in my house.
Did I say too much the other night? Did I go too hard, too fast?
I know she feels something too. Difference is, I’m not scared. Maybe that’s where our ages show. I know howprecious time is, and I’m not about to waste or gamble it. I know better by now.
Surviving losing Blake would look like a walk in the park compared to a future without Mia. She’s shown me who I want to be, not the hollow man I thought I had to perform as.The righteous one. The ghost in his own house.
Mia’s given me a taste of what life can be, and now I know what happy feels like. And I want nothing more than to make my family happy. I want Lily proud of my Sunday pancakes, of the many voices I pull off while reading her stories, not of my doctor’s accolades gathering dust at the hospital, while she falls asleep without me. And I want Mia right beside me for it all.
By the time I walk into the hospital to check on Kate, I’m focused, but still checking the clock every ten minutes like some rookie intern counting down to lunch. Only I’m counting down to when I can text Mia without looking too desperate.
Kate’s propped up straighter, color back in her face. We talk, I scan her chart, tell her I’ll check in again after the physio sees her. She squeezes my hand and says she’s glad to see me. The feeling is mutual, and my smile genuine.
April tracks me down next, clipboard hugged to her chest like a shield. “Well, well, look who’s fitting right back in.”
“Don’t get too used to me,” I mutter with no bite in it. She’s held the fort just fine without me, and I plan to keep leaning on her. No more killing myself with crazy hours.
She quirks a brow. “Don’t even joke about it, Pres.”
“I’m back, A. Just… not doing the same hours as before. I’ll be delegating a lot more. Ready?”
“As ever.”
