Violet’s POV
Dawn breaks over Manhattan like a promise I'm trying to keep.
Adison is still asleep, pregnancy exhaustion pulling her deeper than usual, which means I have exactly three hours to transform her pristine penthouse into something that resembles actual joy.
Jake left before sunrise to collect Tommy and Paige from the airport, and the apartment feels too quiet without him. I move through the living room with streamers and balloons, creating deliberate chaos in a space that's been nothing but crisis management for weeks.
The sound of the front door opening sends my heart into my throat.
"Violet!" Paige's voice carries across the space, and then she's rushing toward me, pulling me into a hug that feels like coming up for air after being underwater too long.
I hold her tighter than necessary, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo, and realize with startling clarity that I've missed her with an intensity that surprises me. Missed her steady presence. Missed having someone who knows me without judgment.
"I can't believe you're here." The words come out muffled against her shoulder.
"Wouldn't miss this." She pulls back, studying my face with that careful attention she's perfected. "You look different. Good different."
Tommy appears behind her, grinning that easy smile that used to irritate me and now just makes me shake my head.
"You stole my best friend." I point at him accusingly, half-joking but not really. "I'm holding a grudge about that."
"She came willingly." He holds up both hands in mock surrender. "Can't be blamed for being irresistible."
"I absolutely can blame you." I cross my arms, but there's no heat behind it. Just the comfortable rhythm of old arguments that don't mean anything anymore.
Jake catches my eye over Tommy's shoulder, and something passes between us. Understanding, maybe. Recognition that we've all changed in ways that matter.
"Tommy." Jake gestures toward the hallway. "Let me show you around while the girls handle decorations."
They disappear, leaving Paige and me alone with boxes of party supplies and three hours until Adison wakes up.
"This place is incredible." Paige picks up a roll of silver streamers, studying the vaulted ceilings with appreciation. "Very Adison."
"Which is exactly why we're making it messy." I hand her a bag of balloons. "She needs celebration. Not perfection."
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, creating disorder in carefully curated space. Paige arranges flowers while I string lights across the windows, and the normalcy of it feels almost sacred after everything.
"I'm moving to the ranch." Paige says it casually, like she's commenting on the weather. "Permanently. Meeting my parents during this trip to collect my things."
I stop mid-reach, balloon in hand. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." She tucks a rose into the arrangement with practiced care. "Tommy asked me to stay. And I want to. The ranch feels like home in a way New York never did."
Something warm blooms in my chest. "That takes courage. Choosing a completely different life."
"Says the girl who walked away from her family with a backpack." Paige looks at me directly. "Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm doing."
Fair point.
We return to decorating, and I'm taping streamers to the wall when she pivots with the casual precision of someone who knows me too well.
"So." Her voice carries studied nonchalance. "Is Zachary coming to the party?"
This question is unexpected for me.
My hands falter on the tape, and I force myself to keep moving. "He's invited. Whether he actually shows up is another question."
"You're in love with him." Not a question. Just observation delivered with devastating accuracy.
I don't confirm it. Don't deny it. Just focus very intently on making the streamer hang straight while my heart tries to climb out of my chest.
"Violet." Paige sets down the flowers, crossing to where I'm standing. "It's written all over your face."
"He rejected me." The words scrape out raw, tasting like humiliation and want in equal measure. "Here. In New York. Took me to his apartment and then sent me home like I was a child who needed protecting from my own choices."
The memory burns—his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, and then the careful distance. The devastating tenderness. Your first time should be with someone you love. Someone your own age.
Like I wasn't already halfway there.
"I remember at the ranch." Paige's voice pulls me back. "When you were flirting with him."
My face flames. "I wasn't—"
"You absolutely were." She cuts me off gently, no judgment in her tone. Just a fact. "And I watched him. The way he responded. Or didn't respond."
I turn to face her fully, something desperate rising in my chest. "Exactly. He didn't respond because he wasn't interested."
"He didn't respond." Paige meets my gaze with steady certainty. "But he also didn't reject you. Didn't shut you down. Didn't do what most men would do when a nineteen-year-old throws herself at them."
The observation lands somewhere between vindication and torture.
"What are you saying?" My voice comes out quieter than I suspected.
"I'm saying he was careful." Paige steps closer, making sure I hear this. "Not dismissive. Not uncomfortable. Careful. Like he was protecting something fragile. Like crossing that line would have meant something he wasn't ready to risk."
The logic makes too much sense and not enough sense, and my throat tightens with the weight of wanting to believe her.
"Or maybe he just didn't want me." I force the words out. "Maybe careful is just another word for polite rejection, and I'm too desperate to see the difference."
"Violet." Paige's voice softens. "A man who doesn't want you shuts it down immediately. Makes it clear. Zachary didn't do that. At the ranch, he let you flirt without encouraging you, but he never made you feel foolish. That's not disinterest. That's restraint."
Before I can argue—before I can dissect every moment at the ranch looking for proof she's wrong—the front door opens again.
Zachary walks through carrying a cake box.
And every thought in my head evaporates.
He's dressed casually—jeans and a button-down instead of his usual suit—and the sight of him looking almost relaxed does something devastating to my ability to breathe normally. His eyes find mine across the room, and for one perfect second the careful distance he's been maintaining cracks just enough that I can see what's underneath.
Want. Recognition. Something that looks dangerously like the emotion I'm trying not to name.
"Morning." His voice carries professional neutrality that doesn't match the heat in his gaze. "Where should I put this?"
"Kitchen." I manage to sound almost normal. "Thank you for bringing it."
He moves past me toward the kitchen, close enough that I catch his scent—something clean and expensive that makes my stomach flip—and the space between us crackles with everything we're not saying.
Paige watches with barely concealed amusement, her earlier assessment hanging in the air like prophecy.
Jake and Tommy return from the tour, and suddenly the apartment fills with voices and laughter and the kind of chaotic preparation that feels like hope.
I catch Zachary's eye across the room once more, and this time he doesn't look away.
This time, neither do I.
Whatever's building between us—whatever this is that neither of us knows how to name—it's not finished. Not even close.
And standing here surrounded by people I've chosen to love, in an apartment that's finally starting to feel like family, I understand something fundamental.
I'm done waiting for permission to want what I want.
Done apologizing for feelings that terrify me.
Done being the girl who plays it safe.
Zachary set boundaries because he thought that's what I needed. What he doesn't understand yet is that I'm not looking for protection.
I'm looking for someone brave enough to risk the fall with me.