"Sounds good. Love you."
"Love you!"
Blake waves goodbye, and I stand frozen in the corridor. His words bounce around in my skull. Beckett. Warren. Camping. Together.
The drive home is mechanical. My body is on autopilot while my mind races. What if Blake puts it together? What if he already has, and that's why he's putting this together?
No, he would have asked me. Definitely.
By the time I unlock my front door, my hands are trembling.
The evening passes in a blur of dinner preparation and Beckett's endless stream of dinosaur facts. I help him pack his tiny backpack for tomorrow's camping trip, each item feeling like another piece of my heart I'm sending away.
"Will Warren teach me to catch a fish?" Beckett bounces on his toes, clutching his stuffed dog.
"I bet he will." The words catch in my throat.
After tucking him in, I sit on the couch staring at my phone. I think I should text Warren and warn him. But he's made it clear he doesn't want to talk to me about anything outside of what is absolutely necessary.
He can handle himself with Blake.
Right?
The doorbell ringsat precisely 5:25 the next evening. I nearly trip over Beckett's backpack rushing to answer it. The moment I pull the door open, Gemma sweeps in with her usual flair, her suitcase bumping the threshold. She wraps me in a hug that nearly breaks me in half.
"God, I missed your face." Her voice carries the faint trace of Texas that five years in Chicago never quite erased.
"Auntie Gemma!" Beckett bounds over, wearing his Halloween butterfly costume despite Halloween being behind us. "Look what I got!" He holds up the neon soccer ball, spinning it between his small hands.
"Well, look at you! A butterfly soccer champion!" Gemma kneels, examining his wings with exaggerated awe. "Those are some serious colors, buddy."
Beckett basks in her laughter before darting off to continue whatever game he's invented in the living room.
"Chinese food's in the kitchen." I gesture toward the cartons lined up on the counter. "I got your favorite and made it extra spicy. Blake's on his way over to get Beckett, so we can wait until they leave it you want."
"Absolutely. I need some Becks loving before he leaves me. Get over here, you beautiful butterfly."
A rumbling engine draws our attention as Blake's forest-green pickup turns into the driveway. My stomach twists when I spot Warren in the passenger seat, his profile sharp against the fading daylight. Tyler's face appears in the back window, waving frantically.
Blake kills the engine. "Camping crew, assemble!" He leaps out with that big-brother energy he's never outgrown.
Warren unfolds from the passenger side. The sight of him in worn jeans and a navy jacket, dressed down and casual, somehow hits harder than I'd prepared myself for. He looks like he belongs in our lives, in this ordinary Friday night moment.
Beckett races toward Tyler, the boys colliding in an excited tangle of limbs and laughter.
"Hey, Gemma. What a nice treat to see you." Blake’s voice carries across the driveway. He walks directly to my friend, my ride-or-die, and hugs her.
They do a brief catch-up while Warren slips in, his focus locked on Beckett. He gives Gemma a curt nod as he passes. “Warren Carter,” he offers with a quick, polite wave, and then reaches his hand as an afterthought.
“Gemma Alvarez,” she says, her smile tight but knowing. They shake briefly in passing. She folds her arms across her chest and finishes her conversation with Blake.
Then Warren crouches down in front of Beckett and Tyler, shutting out the rest of us like we’re background noise.
My chest squeezes tight as Warren's hands move toBeckett's jacket, zipping it higher against the evening chill. His fingers are steady and sure. A father's hands.
"We're going to catch the biggest fish at the lake!" Beckett's arms wave dramatically.
Warren nods, his face serious. "You bet we are."