For all hisyou’re mineandstay with me. Histhis is our home, andI hope you get knocked up…he hasn’t saidI love you.
Not once.
And maybe I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now. Until I’m standing in the middle of this kitchen that feels more like mine than my actual apartment and realizing we skipped a few steps.
We got lost in kisses and laughter and Sunday breakfasts and sex so good it makes me forget my name—but I don’t know what any of it means if the one thing that proves he’s different never made it out of his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, forcing the thoughts out.
No. That’s old wiring talking. Old pain. Old patterns.
But still... it simmers.
I walk toward the entry table, needing to find that list, needing anything to anchor myself again instead of the emotions clawing at my insides.
The stack of mail is thick and untouched, most of it ads or junk.
I sigh, grimacing. Damn, we really have been swamped, haven’t we?
A large manila envelope slips free from the pile and lands on the floor with a soft thud.
I lean down and pick it up, flipping it over—and my heart stutters.
Kade Archer
Regarding: Aurora Grace Vernal-Parker
Holy shit.
It has to be about the adoption. We’ve been waiting for this for weeks. Kade’s been lowkey panicking, trying to hide it behind his usual gruff, steady front, but I know him. He’s been bracing himself for bad news. I tried to reassure him. These things take time. Processing backlogs, courthouse delays. It’s normal. But this…
Bet it’s been sitting here this whole time.
I drop my phone and keys on the table and rip open the seal, already picturing how I’ll tell him. I bought Aurora a tiny T-shirt that saysOfficially an Archerthe day we submitted the paperwork, but it might be too snug now—she’s grown so fast.
The Honey Bea Bash will be perfect. I’ll announce it there. A family surprise. He’ll cry. I’ll cry. It’ll be beautiful.
I pull the papers out of the envelope, smile stretching wide—
Then faltering.
It’s not from the court. It’s from the Vernal’s probate attorney. A sticky note is slapped to the top in the same messy handwriting I sifted through those first few weeks.
Sorry, I was out of state. This got lost in the chaos and I found it in my paperwork when I returned. Hope it clears things up. Good luck.
My mouth pulls tight. Fuck this guy.
He’s been a disaster since day one—late emails, missed forms and a vacation that dragged on way too damn long.
I peel off the note and start flipping through the paperwork, confusion bubbling.
It’s not a ruling. It’s a copy of the will. And a letter. A letter addressed to Kade.
I skim the heading, the first few lines, my pulse rising. Then I see the signature and my heart drops. My gaze flies to the door, hands shaking, eyes blurring. I know I shouldn’t read it. Know this isn’t mine.
But… how can I not?
It’s fromher.
