Chapter 80

The scent of hot fries and grilled burgers filled the penthouse as the delivery arrived right on time—1:30 PM, just like Emma had said. Abigail padded barefoot to the door, hair still damp from their shared shower, and returned with two big paper bags full of heavenly-smelling goodness.

“Lunch is here!” she called out, her voice cheerful, cheeks still pink from more than just the warm water.

Emma came around the corner, toweling off the ends of her curls and wearing one of Abigail’s oversized T-shirts that nearly swallowed her baby bump. She looked cozy, happy, and completely in love.

Megan and Ashley were already perched on the couch, flipping through a magazine they’d found on the coffee table, clearly comfortable and right at home. Ashley perked up immediately.

“Ooooh! I smell fries. I knew this was going to be the best idea ever.”

Emma chuckled and motioned them toward the dining nook. “Come on, food’s hot. We got burgers, truffle fries, sweet potato fries, and… I think there’s cheesecake in there too.”

“You’re speaking my love language,” Megan said, grabbing her plate eagerly.

The four of them dug in, laughter bubbling up between bites of greasy heaven. Abigail fed Emma a fry dipped in aioli, and Emma kissed her knuckles in return with a soft smile that made Ashley fake-gag, though she was clearly smiling.

After the food was sufficiently demolished and everyone had their fill of sweets, Abigail stood and stretched with a yawn. “Okay. Next phase of the hangout?”

Emma pointed toward the balcony. “Let’s go outside. The weather’s perfect.”

The balcony overlooked the city with a jaw-dropping view—skyscrapers kissing the sky, warm sunlight dancing off glass buildings, and a soft summer breeze swirling around them. There were plush chairs, a low table already set with more drinks and candles, and a few cozy blankets thrown around.

Everyone settled in, full and content, the kind of peaceful quiet that follows great food and better company.

Emma curled up next to Abigail, resting her head on her shoulder. “This has been such a good day.”

Ashley raised her glass of sparkling cider and grinned. “To unplanned sleepovers, sexy neighbors, and fries that taste like actual joy.”

Megan clinked glasses with her. “And to good company—and possibly even better stories.”

The group chuckled, and conversation picked up again, shifting from playful to reflective as the city slowly began its golden hour glow. They talked about music, favorite childhood memories, dreams for the future.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t wild. But it was everything—the kind of afternoon that left you feeling full in more ways than one.

Emma reached for Abigail’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and whispered just loud enough for only her to hear, “Thanks for this. For all of it.”

Abigail leaned over and kissed her temple. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

From the corner, Megan and Ashley watched the exchange and smiled softly—two people quietly grateful to be part of something that felt a little like magic.

Ashley leaned back in her chair, one ankle crossed over the other, her fingers slowly spinning the stem of her glass. “You ever have one of those days that feels like it’s supposed to happen? Like… everything’s just lining up?”

Emma nodded slowly. “Like the universe is saying, ‘See? There’s still softness in the world.'”

Megan exhaled through her nose and smiled. “Yeah. This feels like one of those days.”

Abigail shifted slightly, glancing at Emma. “You alright?” she asked softly.

Emma’s eyes shimmered a little as she nodded. “Yeah, just… really happy. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or the fact that this has felt like one big exhale I didn’t know I needed.”

Megan reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Same. I didn’t realize how nice it would feel to just… be somewhere without pretending.”

Ashley tilted her head. “You pretend a lot?”

Megan shrugged. “Not here. Not today. But yeah—sometimes. Especially when you feel like you’re walking into every room with a disclaimer about your body or your past. Here, it’s just… quiet.”

Abigail’s voice was calm and steady. “You don’t have to carry that here. We see you, exactly as you are.”

Megan blinked a few times, lips twitching with a grateful smile. “You two have a gift. For making people feel safe.”

Ashley looked between them and then back out over the skyline. “It’s wild, isn’t it? How fast comfort can show up when it’s real.”

They let the breeze wrap around them for a moment, holding onto the quiet.

Then Emma straightened, a mischievous little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Alright,” she said, brushing some fry crumbs from her lap. “If we’re getting all deep and reflective, we should at least have dessert again.”

Abigail raised a brow. “Again?”

“Cheesecake doesn’t count if you’ve already emotionally processed something,” Emma said matter-of-factly.

Megan laughed. “Is that a real rule?”

“It is now,” Emma declared, getting up to grab the leftover sweets from the fridge.

As she walked away, Abigail leaned back, smiling in a way that softened every angle of her face. “She’s kind of the best.”

Ashley leaned in slightly. “So are you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

By the time Emma returned, balancing four plates and an extra bottle of sparkling cider, the sun had almost fully dipped below the horizon, the sky turning cotton-candy pink and tangerine.

They passed around cheesecake, clinking glasses again as if this moment—this group, this view, this strange and unexpected kinship—deserved to be toasted to more than once.

“To late lunches, second desserts, and chosen family,” Emma said, raising her glass.

“To the ones who see us,” Abigail added.

Megan smiled and lifted hers. “And to soft places to land.”

Ashley looked around at the three of them, something vulnerable and rare flickering in her eyes. “Yeah. To that.”