“Sarge says ‘Congrats,’” Jules says softly as I hand her a warm cup of hot chocolate. Her eyes are a little pink, but she’s smiling—really smiling—and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all night.
“Wehaveto celebrate!” Pearla announces, practically bouncing in place.
“Can we get pizza?” Tate jumps in immediately, the way only a seven-year-old can after a momentous life event.
“I do love pizza,” Leo chimes in solemnly, as if casting the final vote.
We polish off our hot chocolates with laughter still hanging in the air, then head for our cars. It’s a short drive to Cardini’s. The same one that’s been a witness to so many of our turning points. The first time we all had dinner together. The awkwardness, the tension, the slowly cracking open of something new. Now, it feels like home.
Naturally, Tate bursts through the doors ahead of us and shouts the news to Kona before we even get fully inside. “Mom and Dad are engaged. Again!”
Kona raises his brows, grinning wide. “Am I catering the reception or what?”
“We’re not there yet,” Jules says with a laugh, her cheeks flushed with a kind of joy that makes my heart twist in the best way. “He literally proposed thirty minutes ago.”
“And I’m still your first stop?” Kona clasps a hand over his chest. “I’m honored.”
We’re led to the same booth in the corner—big and circular, familiar. Tate and Leo slide in first, already swapping ridiculouspizza topping suggestions. Jules scoots in next, then me, and the second we’re settled, her fingers find mine. She holds on tight.
“For the record,” she whispers, leaning close, her voice soft but firm, “we arenotinviting your father to the wedding.”
I laugh under my breath. “That was never on the table.”
She smirks, satisfied.
“We should call your mom,” she says after a beat. “She deserves to know.”
Across the table, Pearla is rattling off topping options while Tom dutifully responds with, “Does Leo like that?” every single time. Jules watches them with a fondness that says she sees it, too. That slow forming of something good and real.
“Alright,” I say, pulling out my phone.
Jules leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder as I tap Mom’s name and hit video call.
“Hello?” Mom answers, slightly out of breath, her reading glasses slipping down her nose. “Corbin? Everything okay?”
“Hey, Mom,” I say.
“I usually see Tate on these. Don’t tell me something’s wrong.”
Jules lifts her left hand, tilting the camera so the ring is front and center. “We have some news.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Mom gasps so loud I wince, and a second later she’s squealing, laughing, and clutching her chest. “Oh myGod! Are you serious? Iknewit. Iknewit! I amso thrilled!”
“We are too,” Jules says, her voice already cracking with emotion.
Mom dabs at her eyes behind the screen. “I’ve been hoping… praying, even. And now this? This is the best news I could’ve gotten. I’m going to call everyone. Every. One.”
Jules laughs, a tear sliding down her cheek. “We don’t even have a date yet.”
“But youwill,” Mom says. “Soon, I hope?”
Jules turns to look at me. There’s so much unsaid in her gaze, but I understand all of it. The history. The healing. The hope.
“Soon,” I promise, my hand closing around hers again. “Very soon.”
We hang up, celebrate with our friends, and then head home. Tate falls asleep quickly, his excitement finally giving way to exhaustion. There’s a bedtime story, a whisperedI love you, a kiss to the forehead. Then the soft, familiar walk across the hall—our hall—to our room.
Ours.
