“You’re okay,” I whisper.
She nods against my shoulder, breathing in time with me. By the time we’re level, some color has come back to her face. Mya opens her eyes, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I know it’s irrational.”
“It’s not. We’re good. You’re doing great.”
Amira, who’s been sitting across from us with Henson, nudges Mya. “Okay, quick Miller family download.”
She gives Mya the rundown of my family members while Bri sprawls her legs across Mya’s lap like this is the most normal thing in the world. Every now and then, when there’s a little bump of turbulence, Mya squeezes my hand again, and every time I squeeze back.
By the time we land in Nantucket, she seems relaxed, laughing at something Sylas said. No one but me would know she was nervous. And I like it that way; her needing me for something only I’m aware of.
After we deplane, a second car waits to take Griffin and Sylas to the Kingston place on the other side of the island. “See you tomorrow night,” Griffin calls.
Our driver takes us through town, then out toward my parents’ place.
As soon as we pull up, the house’s front door bursts open. My mother comes down the steps in a flowy linen dress, brown hair pinned back, arms already open. But she doesn’t go for me or Henson.
She goes for Mya.
“Oh,finally.” Mom pulls her into a hug. “I have been waitingagesto meet you.”
Mya stiffens a millisecond, then melts into her embrace. “Hi, Mrs. Miller.”
“Oh, no. Call me Nadine.” My mother holds her at arm’s length to look at her. “You are even prettier in person.”
Mya actually blushes.
Behind them, my dad steps onto the porch, hands in his pockets, and gives me a nod. Approval, so far.
“Come,” Nadine says, looping her arm through Mya’s. “I must show you the house. Worth never does it properly. He’s always in a hurry.”
I watch my mother whisk my fake-wife into the house, with a small smile on my face.See? This is what I wanted you to see. This is why I brought you.
Dinner that night is a breeze. Brianna sits between Mya and my mom, talking about art and school. Dad asks Mya about the project she presented to the board and she answers with confidence and just enough humility to make him like her even more. Amira jumps in with a joke and Henson steals potatoes from her plate, and her outraged expression makes everyone laugh.
Mya looks like she belongs here—as if that chair has had her name on it for years.
Let this convince you. Let this feel like home and make walking away harder than staying.
After dessert, everyone starts to head to their own rooms, a few people yawning. My mother hugs Mya again, kisses Bri goodnight, and squeezes my arm. “She’s lovely,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t mess it up.”
I look at my wife across the room, smiling at my daughter. “I’m trying not to.”
The next evening,we gather at a long farmhouse table on the back terrace; it’s decorated with white linens, little glass vases of hydrangeas straight from Mom’s garden, and candles in hurricane jars so the ocean breeze won’t kill the flames. The sun’s starting to drop, painting everything gold. You could even hear the waves if everyone stopped talking at the same time, which, with this crowd, never happens.
Mom sits at the head, radiant in pale blue, Dad beside her, looking proud. Mya is two seats down, between Amira and Bri, and the two women are laughing at something my daughter said.
Mya is in a simple dress, nothing flashy, and I keep sneaking looks at her like—that’s my wife.
Halfway through appetizers, Griffin arrives with his son in tow, plus two of his brothers. Adrian is still in Paris with his racing team.
Damian goes right in for a hug with my mom. The other brother, Caleb—taller, darker, and quieter—follows, carrying a bottle of wine.
“Sorry we’re late,” Griffin says, kissing Mom’s cheek. “Someone,” he jerks his head toward Sylas, “needed chicken nuggets.”
Sylas waves at Bri. She waves back with a huge grin, like she hasn’t seen him in forever, even though it’s only been a few days. He’s like a little brother to her.
“Come in, come in,” Mom says, delighted. “There’s plenty.”