Chapter 164

The coffee finished brewing with a soft click, steam curling into the quiet kitchen. Abigail poured two mugs, sliding one toward Emma without needing to ask. Emma smiled at that, wrapping both hands around it like it was part of the ritual now.

They moved easily together, unhurried. Abigail cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking slowly, while Emma leaned against the counter and talked about nothing in particular—how the light looked nicer today, how strange it felt to wake up and realize they didn’t actually have to go anywhere.

Just as Abigail set a pan on the stove, a knock sounded at the door.

Both of them paused.

Emma raised a brow. “We’re popular this morning.”

Abigail laughed softly. “Only one way to find out.”

She went to the door and opened it to find Megan standing there with two coffees in a carrier and Ashley beside her, hair still damp like she’d rushed out without fully drying it.

“Morning,” Megan said easily. “We figured we’d check in.”

“And steal breakfast if possible,” Ashley added, already peeking past Abigail.

Abigail stepped aside without hesitation. “You’re in luck. I’m already cooking.”

Megan grinned. “I knew we came at the right time.”

The kitchen settled into a comfortable rhythm as breakfast continued to come together.

Abigail adjusted the heat on the stove, rolling her shoulders once as she flipped another pancake. Megan leaned against the counter nearby, watching her work with an easy grin.

“You’re really in your element right now,” Megan said. “If music ever stops working out, you’ve got a future as a breakfast chef.”

Abigail snorted. “Please. I just like feeding people.”

“Yeah,” Megan said knowingly. “That tracks.”

Abigail glanced over her shoulder. “How’d practice go yesterday, by the way? You looked exhausted when I saw you last.”

Megan groaned. “Brutal. Coach is pushing conditioning hard. But,” she added, smirking, “we’re clicking. Team’s starting to feel solid.”

“That’s good,” Abigail said. “You’ve been carrying a lot lately.”

Megan shrugged. “Worth it. I like when things feel earned.”

They shared a quiet moment, the kind that didn’t need filling, just the sound of the stove and the smell of coffee drifting through the space.

Across the kitchen, Emma and Ashley had drifted closer to the window, mugs in hand. Sunlight caught the edge of the glass, warming their faces.

Ashley and Emma lingered by the window a little longer, the noise of the kitchen soft behind them—spatulas scraping, Megan laughing, Abigail humming under her breath. Sunlight warmed the glass, but Emma’s shoulders tightened anyway.

“I don’t always say this out loud,” Emma began, voice quiet, careful, “but some days it hits me all at once. How much is changing. How fast.”

Ashley turned fully toward her, giving her her full attention. “What does it feel like when it hits?”

Emma swallowed. “Like I’m excited and terrified at the same time. Like I love this baby already so much it scares me. And I don’t want to mess it up.” Her eyes shined, and she blinked hard, trying to hold it together. “I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”

Ashley didn’t rush her. She let the silence stretch just long enough to feel safe.

“Hey,” she said gently, stepping closer. “Come here.”

Emma didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, and Ashley wrapped her arms around her, firm and steady. Ashley’s hand moved in slow circles along Emma’s back, grounding, reassuring.

“You’re not messing anything up,” Ashley murmured. “You care. You show up. You ask the hard questions. That’s what good parents do.”

Emma let out a shaky breath, tears finally slipping free. “I just want them to feel safe.”

“They will,” Ashley said without doubt. “Because they’ll have you. And Abby. And a whole lot of people who love them.”

Emma nodded into her shoulder, wiping at her eyes. “Some days I forget I don’t have to do this by myself.”

Ashley smiled softly and hugged her a little tighter. “You never do. And if you ever need anything—anything—I’m literally down the hall. Middle of the night. Random panic. Grocery run. Sitting on the floor and crying.” She pulled back just enough to look at Emma. “No matter what it is.”

Emma laughed through the tears. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Ashley said. “That’s family.”

Emma breathed that in, her shoulders finally easing. “Thank you.”

Ashley brushed her thumb under Emma’s eye. “Anytime.”

Across the room, Abigail glanced over and caught the end of the hug. She didn’t interrupt. She just smiled, something soft and relieved settling in her chest as she turned back to the stove.

Abigail slid the last pancake onto a plate and turned off the stove, the kitchen finally settling as the food came together

“Alright,” she said lightly, “that’s everything.”

Megan pushed off the counter and grabbed plates from the cabinet without being asked. “I got it.” She moved easily around the island, setting plates and silverware, lining up mugs like she’d done this a hundred times before.

Abigail carried over the bowls of fruit and a stack of pancakes, setting them down while Megan poured more coffee. Ashley and Emma drifted back toward the table together, Emma’s eyes a little red but her smile steady.

Abigail brought over one more platter and set it gently in the center of the table—crispy bacon stacked high, scrambled eggs folded soft with cheese, a bowl of sliced fruit glistening with honey, and a basket of warm toast wrapped in a clean towel to keep it hot. The smell alone felt like a hug.

“Okay,” Megan said, surveying the spread as she pulled out a chair, “this is excessive. In the best way.”

Abigail laughed, taking her seat beside Emma. “I might’ve gotten carried away.”

Ashley reached for the bacon. “No such thing.”

They passed plates around, everyone taking a little of everything. Someone poured juice. The clink of silverware mixed with low conversation and the easy rhythm of people who didn’t need to impress each other.

Emma leaned lightly into Abigail, her shoulder warm against hers. Abigail brushed her thumb across Emma’s knuckles under the table, a quiet check-in. Emma squeezed back, smiling.

Megan took a bite, then another, eyes closing for half a second. “Yeah. This hits.”

Ashley laughed. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Megan replied, grinning.

Conversation drifted—practice schedules, a story from Ashley about a student who showed up wildly unprepared but earnest, Emma chiming in with a soft laugh. Abigail listened, content, occasionally reaching for more fruit or sliding the toast basket closer to someone’s elbow.

Megan paused mid-bite and looked around the table. Not rushed. Not joking this time.

“You know,” she said, voice quieter but steady, “I love you guys.” She gestured lightly with her fork, encompassing the whole table. “It’s nice to have real, authentic people in my life.”

The room softened.

Ashley smiled first. “Right back at you.”

Emma nodded, eyes warm. “We’re really glad you’re here.”

Abigail lifted her mug slightly. “Anytime. Always.”

Megan exhaled, like she’d been holding something in for a while, then laughed and shook her head. “Okay, enough feelings. Someone pass the potatoes before I get sentimental again.”

They laughed together, the moment settling into something easy and lasting.