Adison’s POV
I call Violet Sunday morning before I can talk myself out of it, which is how most of my better decisions happen lately—momentum instead of overthinking.
"Hey." Her voice sounds breathless, worn in ways that have nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with satisfaction. "What's up?"
"Dinner tonight." I curl into the corner of the couch, morning sickness making everything taste metallic. "At the apartment. I have a surprise."
"A surprise?" There's rustling on her end, muffled conversation I pretend not to hear. "What kind of surprise?"
"The kind that stops being a surprise if I tell you about it." I pause, measuring my next words. "Bring Zachary. Seven o'clock."
"Adison—"
"Violet." I cut her off gently. "Just say yes."
She exhales, and I can practically see her weighing options she doesn't actually have. "We'll be there."
After we hang up, I sit with the odd maternal feeling settling in my chest—this protective instinct for her happiness that I never expected to access.
She sounds wrecked and content in equal measure, and some territorial part of me wants to make sure Zachary understands exactly how much damage he could do if he's careless with what she's giving him.
"You looked through it yet?" Jake's voice comes from the doorway, and I realize I've been staring at nothing for five minutes.
"Through what?"
"The telescope." He moves into the living room, all casual grace that probably costs him more effort than he'd admit. "The one that's supposed to replace all the stargazing you abandoned."
The words land softer than they could, but guilt twists anyway. "I forgot."
"Adison." He sits beside me, close enough that I feel the warmth of him. "You forget or you're avoiding it?"
"Both." Honesty comes easier when I'm too tired to construct better lies. "I've been consumed by work and pregnancy nausea and the empty space you left behind. The stars felt like something I gave up when Manhattan reclaimed me."
His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together with the kind of careful intention that makes my throat tight. "We'll look together tonight. After dinner."
"That's very olive branch of you."
"Maybe it's a beginning." He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb. "Maybe we're allowed to have those now."
I lean into him before I can stop myself, and it feels like coming home to a place I spent months trying to escape.
* * *
They arrive at seven looking exactly how I suspected they would—exhausted in the specific way that suggests they've spent the weekend rewriting their understanding of physical limits. Violet's hair is still damp from a recent shower, and Zachary's shirt is wrinkled like he grabbed it off the floor without checking first.
Jake notices immediately, of course he does. His mouth twitches with barely suppressed amusement while he shakes Zachary's hand.
"Productive weekend?" The question sounds innocent enough, but Jake's never been innocent a day in his life.
"Very." Zachary's expression stays carefully neutral, though his hand finds the small of Violet's back possessively. "Thank you for having us."
I can't help myself. "Well, it's just sex, not a relationship, right? Shouldn't be too exhausting."
The observation lands with all the grace of a brick through a window. Violet's face flushes crimson, Zachary's careful neutrality cracks into something that looks almost offended, and the discomfort settles over the entryway like an unwanted guest nobody knows how to dismiss.
"Adison." Jake's voice carries a warning. "Maybe let's get through appetizers before you destroy everyone's evening."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Violet finds her voice first, defensive and sharp. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" I meet her eyes, and something passes between us—recognition, maybe, or the acknowledgment that we're both deeper than we planned. "Come on. Maria's been cooking all afternoon, and if we let the food get cold, she'll murder all of us."
***
Maria's cooking rescues the moment because food always does. The table becomes neutral territory, and conversation finds safer ground—Jake's upcoming meetings, Violet's university preparations, the weather patterns that determine absolutely nothing important.
Halfway through the main course, I set down my fork with enough force to make everyone look up.
"Jake and I want to get married." The words come out steadier than I feel. "Before our son arrives. Before Violet leaves for university. Before life gets more complicated than it already is."
Violet's joy is immediate and unguarded, her smile so wide it makes my chest ache. "Oh my God. Adison. That's—when?"
"Soon." Jake's hand finds mine under the table.
"That's amazing." Violet's eyes are bright, and I watch her grab Zachary's hand without thinking. "Congratulations. Both of you."
Zachary leans back, his strategic mind already working through implications. "That means extra media attention. Adison, you're already exhausted from pregnancy. Are you sure you want to add a media circus to everything else?"
"Which is why we're keeping it small." I take a breath, preparing for the real surprise. "And we're having it at the ranch."
The silence stretches long enough to hurt. Even Jake looks startled, and I realize with cold clarity that I haven't told him yet—haven't explained that choosing the ranch isn't surrender.
"The ranch?" Jake's voice is careful, measuring. "In Texas?"
"The place where we broke each other open." I look at him, willing him to understand. "That's the only place that makes sense to promise forever. Where it all started. Where we—"
"Where we figured out who we actually were." He finishes my sentence, and something settles in his expression. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." The decision settles into my bones like coming home to a place I spent months trying to escape. "If everyone's willing to fly back to Texas. Violet, Zachary—you'll come?"
"Of course." Violet's response is immediate. "I wouldn't miss it."
"I'll be there." Zachary squeezes her hand. "Wouldn't let Violet fly alone anyway."
Oh, what a defender, look at this lovesick fool.
Jake's fingers tighten on mine, and when he speaks, his voice carries weight I feel in my chest. "Then we're getting married at the ranch."
Later, after Violet and Zachary leave looking marginally less exhausted but substantially more settled, Jake finds me on the balcony staring at the city lights.
"You ready to go back?" His arms wrap around me from behind, and I lean into him.
"To the ranch?" I pause, measuring my truth. "I think I've been ready for a while. Just needed a good enough reason to admit it."
"Marrying me is a good enough reason?"
"You're an acceptable excuse." I turn in his arms, and his smile is soft in the darkness. "The telescope's waiting."
"It is." He kisses my forehead. "But first, tell me you're not regretting this. The wedding. The ranch. All of it."
"I'm terrified." The admission comes easier in the dark. "But that means it matters, right?"
"That means it matters." He holds me tighter. "Let's go look at the stars. Figure out which ones we're navigating by."
And for the first time in months, the future feels less like something I'm running from and more like something worth choosing.