#adolting

I don’t remember deciding to leave. One second, I was sitting in my kitchen while the words we got married bounced around my skull looking for somewhere to land. Sophia was congratulating Desi in that careful voice that meant we are not doing this right now, and Josh stood there looking like he might disappear if anybody spoke too loudly. The next second, I was upstairs changing clothes. My daughter had gotten married, and somehow I was putting on workout shorts like that was a normal sequence of events. I thought about going to the spa. That gym had seen me through plenty of emotional crises. But halfway down the stairs, I remembered Dub had a gym at his place now. Even better. No strangers. No questions. No witnesses.

I pulled up just as he was checking the mail outside, looking like a man whose day had not been emotionally vandalized.

“Luc! What’s—”

“I need your gym.”

I didn’t stop walking.

Behind me, he said, “Hello to you too. I’m doing great, thanks for asking. Life is beautiful.”

Normally, I would’ve laughed, but I kept walking. By the time I reached the door, Dub’s joking stopped.

“Okay,” he said, following me inside. “So we’re not doing manners today. Got it.”

I glanced at him finally, so he could see I was not playing with him.

“Lucky for you, I’m not opening today. I just got back from Tami’s.”

I went straight for the punching bag. Dub lingered near the doorway while I wrapped my hands and shoved on the gloves. He didn’t ask what was wrong right away, which I appreciated. Either he knew better, or my face had already answered the question.

I planted my feet, breathed in, then out. The first strikes landed cleanly.

Jab-cross.

The bag rocked sharply on its stand, dipped, then rebounded toward me.

Hook-cross.

“Desi got married.”

Dub blinked. “Married married?”

I exhaled through my nose.

Jab-cross.

“To Josh?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just trying to keep up.”

The bag bobbled hard beneath my punches before snapping upright again. My breathing stayed measured at first. Years of yoga made that part automatic. Peace in. Chaos out.

“She came home this morning and said it like she bought new shoes.”

Jab-cross-hook.

“We got married,” I repeated in my best rendition of her voice.

Dub let out a low whistle. “Wow. That was definitely unexpected. Had she said anything before?”

I adjusted my stance as the bag rebounded.

“The other day.”

Cross-hook.

“I didn’t take it well.”

Body shot. Cross.

“Tried to talk her out of it.”

The bag rocked low and sprang back.

Jab-cross-hook-cross.

“She told me my logic was flawed.”

The stand squeaked against the floor.

“She was right.”

Sweat gathered beneath my shirt. My breath had shortened now.

“I was thinking 'bout my parents’ mess.”

Hook.

“That wasn’t fair.”

I rolled my shoulders, working through the tension settling there.

“So I told her I supported her.”

The next hit drove the bag nearly sideways before it corrected itself.

Dub tilted his head. “Okay…”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t know she meant immediately.”

This time I drove through the punches.

Cross-hook-cross.

The bag snapped back at me hard enough to crowd my space.

Dub nodded slowly. “Ahh.”

“I thought she meant someday.”

Jab-cross-hook.

“Near future.”

Hook-cross.

“Not tomorrow!”

I stepped in harder.

Jab-cross-hook-cross-hook.

The bag shuddered violently on its base. My breathing became heavy. Heat climbed my neck. Sweat ran down my back. Dub let me burn through it.

“Sounds like maybe she didn’t know either,” he said.

I hated that answer. The bag paid for it.

Jab-cross-hook-cross-body-hook.

The impact boomed through the room.

“She did this without us!”

That came out with an onslaught of punches. The bag rocked and rebounded faster now, jerking under repeated blows and snapping back into position before I was ready for it. I went in. No reset. No measured cadence anymore. Just power.

Hook-cross-hook-cross.

“I told her I supported her!”

Cross.

“And I meant it!”

Hook-cross.

“Josh is good for her!”

I was hitting the bag so hard that the stand scraped across the floor as it inched away from me.

“She did it without us.”

My shoulders burned, and my breath turned rough. The bag snapped back toward me again, and I met it with one final burst.

Cross-hook-cross-hook-uppercut.

The whole thing lurched and shivered on its base before settling into smaller rebounds, and so did I. The words left me breathless. And so did the fight.

I stepped back and let the bag finish its nervous little bobbling while the room filled with the sound of my own breathing. I bent slightly at the waist, hands on my thighs for a second, pulling air deep into my lungs.

“I’m not mad she married him,” I said, watching the bag settle.

Dub stayed quiet.

“I just…”

I looked at the bag, but didn’t hit it this time. Dub’s face softened. Then he nodded toward the door.

“Come on.”

I peeled off the gloves and followed him outside. The fresh air helped. By the time we reached the patio, my breathing had mostly settled, though my chest still felt tight in places no amount of cardio could fix.

Dub remained standing while I sat and inspected my knuckles.

“So,” he said. “What are you really upset about?”

I looked at him.

“You gave her your blessing," he continued. "She married a guy you approve of. She’s happy. So what part has you ready to fight furniture?”

I stared at my hands. “She’s my only daughter.”

And there it was. The thing underneath all the noise. Dub’s expression changed immediately.

“I know it probably sounds selfish,” I said.

“It doesn’t.”

“I thought…” I swallowed and looked toward the yard. “I thought I’d walk her down the aisle one day.”

Dub listened.

“I thought Sophia would help her get ready, and I’d try not to cry, and Desi would make fun of me for failing.” I let out a dry little laugh, but it didn’t go far. “I thought we’d get that moment.”

My throat tightened. “And now it's just ... gone.”

Dub nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

“And this was huge, Dub. One of the biggest moments of her life, and she didn’t think we needed to be there.”

“She probably thought about it.”

“That’s worse.”

He winced. “Fair.”

I rubbed my knuckles, still staring at nothing. “I know it wasn’t about me. She said that, and she was right.” I shook my head. “I hate that she was right.”

Dub chuckled softly. “That’s the worst kind of right.”

“The absolute worst.”

For a minute, neither of us said anything. The ache didn’t leave. It just stopped swinging at me.

Dub shifted his weight, still staring at me. “No offense, but this is kind of your fault.”

I turned to him. “Excuse me?”

“You raised a mature, independent woman who knows her own mind.” He spread his hands. “Congratulations. She used it.”

I wanted to be offended. I really did. Unfortunately, a laugh escaped first.

Dub smiled like he’d been waiting for it. “Our girls are gonna do what they want. That’s the job, right? Raise them strong enough to leave us standing there looking stupid?”

“I don’t remember signing up for that.”

He snorted, shaking his head knowingly. “Nobody reads the fine print.”

I shook my head too, but the tightness in my chest loosened a little.

“Look, I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt," he said in a softer voice. "It would hurt me too. But when you’re done being mad, I think you’re gonna be proud.”

I looked back down at my hands. “Maybe.”

“You will.”

I didn’t answer, but I believed him more than I wanted to.

Dub stepped away from me and glanced toward the yard. “You wanna play ping pong?”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never actually come out here.”

I looked past him at the table sitting in his own backyard like it had been waiting for him to discover it.

“You own this place, Dub.”

“I know. Growth is embarrassing.”

I let out another laugh, quieter this time. “Sure,” I said. “I think I’ve got more steam to blow off.”

Dub grabbed the paddles and grinned. “Since you’re so upset, I’ll consider letting you win.”

“You’re such a gracious host.”

Alessia showed up looking beautiful as always. She looked nothing like my mother, but every now and then she’d smile or laugh or tilt her head a certain way and completely throw me off. Less had so much of Mama’s warmth—and sass—in her that sometimes it felt like a tiny piece of her was still hanging around with us.

By then, all of Desi’s friends I’d met—minus Josh—had arrived, so I honestly had no idea who we were still waiting for. Maybe Tami, though she was probably busy wrestling cows or whatever ranch folk do at night. Or maybe she was simply too grown to spend the evening hanging around a bunch of teenagers. Desi caught my eye and gave me a little nod, so I led everyone upstairs.

Once everybody settled in, I realized we should probably handle the cake immediately before the night dissolved into chaos. Desi had plans later, people were already getting loud, and I knew if we waited too long, gathering everyone together again would turn into a full community event. Thankfully, she agreed.

I lit the candles, and that was when the excitement finally hit me properly.

My baby girl was about to age up.

I’d spent so much time emotionally spiraling about this moment that I almost forgot it was supposed to be joyful too. Desi, meanwhile, looked completely unbothered, as one could expect.

She walked up to that cake with all the confidence in the world, gave her wish approximately two seconds of thought, and blew those candles out like they personally offended her. The whole room erupted immediately. Confetti burst through the air. Everybody started cheering.

Then the age-up magic swept over her in a cloud of sparkling light so bright it almost blended into her smile. When everything settled, Desiree Amari Murillo struck a pose like she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. And honestly? She wore young adulthood very well.

Dub tossed me the ball and, in what I can only assume was an act of mercy toward the emotionally compromised, let me serve first. I glanced around while he got into position and quickly found evidence supporting his story. The grill still gleamed. The cushions looked untouched. Even the grass had that suspiciously pristine quality of a place nobody had ever properly broken in. 

I bounced the ball against the paddle to get my rhythm right. “So this is really your first time back here?”

Dub grabbed his paddle and shook his head. “I told you. Growth is embarrassing.”

“You own the property,” I said in disbelief.

“And yet somehow I still pay taxes on land I haven’t explored.”

“Remarkable.”

“I’m a visionary!”

“Right.”

I tossed the ball and served. Dub returned it gently, which I found disrespectful. We traded easy hits back and forth for a few seconds, neither fully committed yet.

“You look calmer,” he said.

“That’s because I’m concentrating.”

“You looked calmer before the game started.”

“I was conserving my rage.”

He laughed.

The ball clipped the edge of my paddle and sailed toward the house.

Dub clicked his tongue, chastising me. “Oof. Grief stole your hand-eye coordination.”

“You’re talking awfully spicy for a man who’s supposedly letting me win out of pity.”

“Kindness!”

I shook my head. 

He sent the next shot wide enough to make me jog for it. The movement felt good. My chest didn’t feel nearly as tight as it had inside, though there was still that lingering little knot only time could deal with. 

Dub served next. That was when I remembered he’d said he just got back in town.

“How was Tami’s?”

He paused just long enough for me to get the uncomfortable feeling I might not be the only dad fighting for emotional survival today.

He bounced the ball against his paddle once before serving. “You know how we tell our daughters they can come and talk to us about anything?”

I returned the shot. “Absolutely.”

The ball skimmed low over the net. 

“Well…” he said, returning it, “sometimes I think that should be amended to only tell me things you want my opinion on and that won’t land me in prison.” 

I missed the return entirely. “Oof.” I retrieved the ball and looked at him over my paddle. “What makes you say that?” 

“Do you want the long or short version?”

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Good,” he said. “Because apparently neither is my trauma.” 

I served again. The rally started easy. Nothing competitive yet. Just the steady tick-tick-tick of the ball moving between us while he gathered his thoughts. 

“I got to the ranch–it’s gorgeous, by the way. But she’s in way over her head.”

He returned my shot with irritating precision. “But she’s an adult, and I have to let her fail on her own, right?”

I sent the ball back with a knowing little chuckle. “Something like that.”

He pointed at me with the paddle. “Don’t use my own life lessons against me.” 

“You brought me out here.”

“That’s fair.”

The ball clipped the edge of the table and bounced toward him. He scooped it up.

“Anyway, I knew something was up as soon as I arrived. She wasn’t her usual confident self. She seemed a little sad and refused to look me in the eye.”

That definitely didn’t sound like the Tami I knew.

“Did it have something to do with the ranch?” I asked.

“That’s what I thought.” He served. “Turns out it wasn’t that simple.”

I returned his serve.

“She met some guy back when we took that trip to Tomarang.”

Tick.

“Invited him to the ranch.”

Tick.

“Long story short…” He hit the ball harder this time. “Dude gets what he wants and flies right back to Tomarang.”

My return died against the net. Something inside me tightened. Not exactly judgment. Just that old protective feeling clawing its way up before I could stop it. I'd seen too many versions of that story already. Alessia trying to hold herself together while the father of her babies disappeared. Yasmine caught up in something she mistook for love. Chi Chi standing beside her daughter while another relationship left scars nobody could see right away. Same mess. Different faces. I was getting real tired of this story.

I picked up the ball. “You mean—” 

Judging by the look on his face, I didn’t need to finish. He threw up both hands.

“Wham, bam, and all!” 

“Oh.” The word came out quieter than I intended. 

We started again. The ball moved slower now. Not because of the game. There was more to the story, and I had questions. 

“I was ready to book a flight and hunt this guy down.”

I understood that instinct immediately and wanted to join him.

“But Tami got super upset, so I had to let that idea go.” 

That surprised me. 

He served. I returned it.

“And I’m glad I did, because once I got home and talked to Kalani, she gave me the woman’s perspective.”

The ball tapped back and forth between us. 

“Can’t say it made me feel much better about the guy,” he admitted, “but at least now I understand where Tami’s coming from.” 

I watched the ball spin off my paddle. Something in me loosened. Not relief exactly. Just recalibration. Tami’s story wasn’t about abandonment. It was just heartbreak. Heartbreak still sucks, but at least I wouldn’t need an alibi.

“Sophia’s constantly helping me understand these things,” I said.

Dub nodded immediately. “That woman’s perspective’ll humble you every time.”

“No kidding.”

The game kept moving while we talked. Turns out I wasn’t good enough at ping pong to overthink and play well at the same time, which honestly felt helpful. 

“You know what sucks about having children?” he asked.

“Oh, I can think of at least 100 reasons.”

“Ha! No, but for real … They don’t stay little long enough!”

That one hit me deep. Especially with another little person at home who’d soon need to figure out school and all the chaos that came with it.  

“They really don’t,” I said.

“Nobody warns you about that part.”

I snorted. “Yeah. That must have been in the fine print section.”

Dub shook his head. “And why did we decide having daughters was a good idea?”

I laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

He grinned. “Well, it should.”

That earned another laugh out of me. And honestly? I couldn’t completely disagree. 

We kept the game going after that. Less therapy. More trash talk. Unfortunately, Dub won. He celebrated like a man defending a long and prestigious ping pong dynasty instead of somebody discovering his own backyard for the first time. 

“Still undefeated over here,” he crowed proudly.

“That stat feels manipulated.”

“History remembers winners.”

“History also remembers fraud.”

He laughed. “Come back when your emotional state improves.”

I shook my head and laughed harder than I wanted to. 

Desi was still married. 

My feelings about it were still unstable. 

Sophia was still waiting for me at home with whatever wisdom she’d gathered while I was busy punching furniture and losing recreational sports. 

But for the first time all day… 

My thoughts didn’t feel quite so loud.

Desiree's birthday tomorrow was like a rude, uninvited guest, making noise while I slept, barging into the bathroom, yammering on through breakfast. I couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard I tried—and I did try. How could something so exciting feel so … unsettling? I told myself this was what we’d been preparing for. It was a good thing. A normal thing. But I’d been with her every day of her life. She lit up my world in a way no one else ever had. That’s when it hit me. Her absence would leave a Strangerville crater-sized hole in my life, and I was already bracing for it.

As if on cue, she sauntered into the kitchen, rolling her eyes and huffing.

"You'd think after all these years he'd get we're not giving him anything."

I glanced over my shoulder. Kooper sat behind me, whining like he’d never been fed a day in his life. Desi didn’t usually get annoyed with the dogs, which made it funnier when she did. Especially since she spoiled them the most.

My unwanted guest still wouldn't shut up, so I leaned into it.

"So, uhhh..." I began. "Big birthday tomorrow, huh?"

"Yep."

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s Love Day, Daddy,” she said, like that answered everything. “I’m going out with Josh.”

“Okaaay,” I said slowly. “But what about your birthday? Are you and the triplets doing something, or—”

"They are the triplets, not me. We don't have to do everything together."

I paused, trying to decide if that was her goading me or my anxiety flaring up.

"Okay, fine," I said, holding my hands up. "But what are you doing? Should we book something? Are we celebrating at home? Are we even invited?"

She smiled—quick, amused. "Of course you're invited. Can't we just, like, bring cake to a club? I don't want complicated. Just fun and vibes."

"And cake."

She nodded. "And cake."

"I'll find the perfect club."

I kissed her forehead and stepped outside, heading straight for my yoga mat. Part of me hoped she’d follow. The rest of me was grateful for the quiet—as quiet as my unwanted guest would allow.

After yoga, I tended to the money tree. It had come a long way, yielding more than I ever imagined when we first planted it. Back then, Sophia and I talked all the time about Desi’s future. What we’d leave for her and the nibblings. Now, there was Logan, and that complicated things. I didn’t want to shortchange the older kids. But I also didn’t want Logan to grow up feeling like an afterthought. Then again, there was plenty of time to save up a decent amount for him. In the meantime, I could teach him how to care for the tree. That way, even if he blew through his inheritance, he’d never have to worry about money—even long after I was gone. And, with any luck, he'd teach the next generation and start a new Murillo family tradition.

It was a bit chilly out, so I finished up quickly and ran back inside. Arvin was already there, fully dressed in cowboy garb, talking about the ranch they want me to buy. I'm pretty sure the whole purpose of his visit was to make sure Uncle Moneybags was still onboard, heh.

After he finished painting this picture of their future ranch life, Desi dropped it, all casual-like.

She wanted to marry Josh.

I replayed the last 10 minutes, trying to recall if Arvin had asked what her after-birthday plans were. It caught me off guard. Waaaay off. But at the same time, it didn’t. Not really. I’d asked her enough times what she was planning next. This was the answer finally catching up to me.

"Marry Josh?" I repeated.

"Of course," she said, as if I should have known.

“Oh, so this is life decisions day," Arvin said, lighting up. "I’m into it. No hesitation. Just saddle up and go!”

Why was I the only one rattled by this? How could this feel right to them? I knew how she felt about him, but marriage? I didn’t want to shut her down, but I couldn't let it go either.

"Desi ... don't you think you should wait a while?"

Her eyes narrowed at me. "Why?"

"You're so young. And marriage is so—so big! You shouldn't go into it unprepared. You have all the time in the world to get married. Maybe just ... focus on maturing for a bit."

She blinked at me for several moments. “You’re saying I need more time, but I don’t feel unsure. That's kind of the point.”

“It's giving overthinking at the gate," Arvin cut in. "You either ride or you don’t."

He looked between us, like he expected someone to agree with him. "I support both of you," he added, already backing away, "but I'm out."

He tipped his hat and left just like that.

The room felt heavier without him. Desi stayed seated, watching me, waiting for something. I could see it in her face—she’d already made up her mind. I wasn’t going to change it. That wasn’t even what I wanted. I simply didn't want her to make—

I stopped myself. My head dropped, and I let out a quiet breath. I was doing it again. Projecting something that had nothing to do with her.

"I get why you're worried, Daddy. I do."

Her voice pulled me back.

"But being young doesn't make me unprepared," she continued.

“I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry. This isn’t about me not trusting you. It’s…” I hesitated. “It’s coming from somewhere else.”

She tilted her head. “Where?”

"Did I ever tell you about my parents' relationship?"

"Not really."

“They divorced when I was really young. It messed with how I saw relationships for a long time.”

She blinked, surprised.

“They didn’t know each other as well as they thought. And when things fell apart … I carried that with me. Longer than I should have.”

I let out a small breath.

“I loved your mom, but I kept my distance for a long time. I didn’t want to repeat what they did.”

I looked at her.

“My experiences shaped how I see things, but that doesn’t make them true. I know you love Josh. And I know you don’t take things lightly. If I’m being honest, I’d prefer you dated longer. But…”

I shook away the competing thoughts, telling me that I'm the parent and I know better than her.

“You’ve probably been thinking about this for a while. And you always go after what you want.”

I looked her square in the eye.

“If this is the life you want … I support it.”

She tossed me a small, yet cheeky smile. "I knew you'd get there."

I snorted. "Okay, Ms. Smartie Pants."

"You guys want popcorn?" Sophia called from the kitchen.

I checked the time. The Game of Llamas premiere was about to come on.

"I'm good," Desi said.

"Me too," I added.

Sophia came back empty-handed and plopped down next to me. The credits rolled. The music swelled. I felt it in my chest immediately. No one else, however, shared my excitement and looked at me like I was ridiculous. They were lucky I loved them.

The rest of the day moved quietly. I baked Desi’s cake and tried not to think too hard about the fact that my daughter was about to become a whole young adult. Whenever the nervous energy started building too high in my chest, I threw myself into something physical. I jogged and did handstands in the yard like I was training for the Motive Trials instead of emotionally spiraling. None of it helped much. By the time evening rolled around, I felt exactly like I used to on the first day of school—restless, sentimental, weirdly nauseous for no real reason. Then Desiree came downstairs. She looked stunning. Not “my little girl playing dress-up” stunning either. Real stunning. The kind that made time feel very aggressive all of a sudden. Watcher, help me. Just like Sophia at prom, I ushered her outside immediately for pictures.

As much as I loved celebrating with the whole family, the night came with one major problem: Logan. Less had always been my default babysitter. Somewhere along the line, I got so comfortable tossing Logan at her whenever Sophia and I needed a night out that I never stopped to consider what would happen when she wasn’t available. Turns out what happens is panic. We were fully dressed and ready to go when we realized. Chi Chi was technically the most qualified person we knew, but things between us had been weird ever since Winterfest. Dub was still trying very hard to be supportive about the alien situation while also visibly fearing my son a little. I knew he’d babysit if I asked, but leaving Logan with someone who looked nervous every time the kid blinked felt … not ideal. Maira would’ve happily stolen one of my children if given the opportunity, but she’d never even met Logan before. That left us with daycare: a place I knew absolutely nothing about and had honestly forgotten even existed. Anxiety crashed over me like a Sulani wave. Not only was this our first experience with daycare, but it was Logan’s first experience being around children his own age without the safety of his family nearby. Suddenly, I didn't feel so well. Entering new territory with both children at the same time was too much for me. Thankfully, Sophia took the lead and handled the daycare situation with grace.

The second we got to the club, my first instinct was to look for Josh. Not because I didn’t want him there. I did. Technically. It was his birthday too, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t come right away. But if he did, I could kiss my father-daughter dance plans goodbye. So when I scanned the crowd and didn’t immediately spot him, I felt relief wash over me so fast I almost got embarrassed. The club wasn’t even open yet when we got there. Everybody was still hanging around outside waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, which honestly worked out better for me because I needed a second to process what I was seeing. These kids had the audacity to grow up. Seeing Yasmine’s girls standing there in heels and makeup felt deeply fake. I knew they were older than Desi. Obviously. But my brain still expected them to come running up covered in glitter glue, asking for snacks. Instead, one of them—Savannah, I think—was standing there looking exactly like Yasmine back when she used to stress me out for fun.

My nephews had also decided they were men now. Beards. Deep voices. Serious expressions like they paid taxes and had opinions about lawn care. Or whatever the ranch equivalent would be. Breanna had changed her hair color again.

I wasn’t quite ready to face Desiree when I got home. My original plan involved hiding at the picnic table until I gathered enough emotional stability to enter my own house without embarrassing myself. I was actively trying to get over what happened, but “trying” and “progress” are two very different activities. The biggest thing I wanted to avoid wasn’t even the marriage itself anymore. It was her attitude. Desi had this uncanny knack for talking about major life decisions like she was ordering lunch. One flippant comment and I might find myself back at Dub’s gym negotiating with that bag. No. I needed a little more recovery time.

Unfortunately, Rosie had other plans. Her barking announced my arrival with all the subtlety of an emergency siren, and a moment later Sophia stepped outside. I immediately felt guilty. I’d stormed out without thinking about her even once. No explanation. No warning. Just emotional evacuation. She smiled when she saw me, but there was caution in it. She was reading me already, measuring damage. I usually tried not to alarm her. But today? I definitely deserved the concern.

Instead of asking where I’d been or if I was okay, she nodded toward the yard. "Sit with me?"

That put me on immediate alert. Sophia never wasted words, but if she got straight to business, something was up. My first thought was that Desi and Josh were inside and she’d volunteered for damage control. Or maybe she thought I still needed supervision. Both felt possible, honestly.

I sat.

She folded one leg beneath herself and looked out toward the yard for a second before speaking. "Desi and I had a long talk."

I waited. Thankfully, she skipped the dramatic buildup and went directly to the useful information. “Josh fell asleep pretty quickly after you left,” she said. “So we had some time to talk. Woman things first. Then the rest.”

Knowing my daughter now had an active woohoo life was one thing, but knowing the details about it was a completely different story I never want to read. I closed my eyes, hoping she'd spare me the details.

“She’s being responsible,” Sophia continued. "I figured you'd want to know that."

Truthfully, that helped more than I expected. Parenting came with enough creative ways to panic without adding preventable disasters to the list. Still, I hoped that was the end of the woohoo part of the story. Thankfully it was, and she gave me the full story of last night sans woohoo. They’d both decided they were ready but didn’t want to risk either family barging in and ruining the moment. Which honestly? Fair. Then came the part I wasn’t expecting.

“She suggested going to another house.”

I frowned. “What house?”

Sophia looked at me. “Your dad’s.”

That one surprised me enough to sit me up straighter. “She went to Dad’s house?”

“You sound offended.”

“I’m confused.”

Honestly, I didn’t even know how she remembered that place. I’d taken her there once—maybe twice—but we never even went inside.

“Why there?”

Sophia exhaled softly. “I don’t know, Luca.”

The way she said my name made me pause. There was a hint of ... something. Not exactly anger or even annoyance. Honestly, she sounded tired. That's when I realized I wasn’t the only parent in this house having an emotionally weird day. I mean, of course not, but it was official now.

“She remembers it,” Sophia said quietly.

Children always remember things differently than we do. Maybe this was more about my dad than the house. She'd always been curious about our family, and I certainly talked about him incessantly. Or it could be that her conversation with him at our cemetery visit meant more to her than I realized. I'll probably never understand why she made that choice because I'll never drum up the nerve to ask for fear of unwanted details. Still, I felt oddly positive about it.

I nodded slowly as she told me the rest. Desi said she felt completely at ease with Josh, so much so she didn’t want the night to end. And somewhere in that feeling she suggested marriage. I already knew how the story ended, but hearing how they got there changed something.

“Josh thought she meant in the future,” Sophia said.

Of course he did. Who wouldn't?

“He tried to slow things down,” she continued. “He brought up us. His family. The wedding.”

I appreciated him having our backs. Desi needs someone who will show her the smaller details she trampled while sprinting toward the big goals.

“He's stronger than I gave him credit for,” I said.

“He definitely tried.” She paused then flashed a small, knowing smile. “But then sweet potato made her case.”

That's when it hit me. Hard. Suddenly I wasn’t picturing Desi anymore. I was seeing Sophia. All beautiful and certain. Completely convinced she was right. Watcher help Josh.

A little laugh escaped me. “I know that smile.”

Sophia tilted her head. “What smile?”

“That I'm about to change your life smile.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately. “I don't have a smile like that.”

I looked at her. She looked at me. We both knew she absolutely had one.

“You asked me to move in with you on our first real date.”

“That was different.”

“No. This is the exact same situation.”

That smile tried to creep through, and she fought it. Needless, she lost.

I shook my head as a realization settled in. “I always thought Desi was more like me.”

Sophia folded her arms. “Oh?”

“She’s not. She’s you.”

That smile softened even more. I felt like I had lost something, but I couldn’t even be mad about it. The more this story unfolded, it sounded less impulsive and more familiar than I wanted to admit. I used to be Josh, hopelessly tangled up in a beautiful, confident woman whose certainty made me braver than I ever could be. That boy never stood a chance.

We sat quietly for a second before practical parenting returned.

“So…” I said. “Where exactly are these newlyweds planning to live?”

“I figured you’d want to weigh in on that.”

Oh, I definitely had thoughts. I love my daughter. Deeply. And I know I told her she could stay as long as she wanted. But living across the hall from a married Desiree and her husband? My spirit rejected that arrangement immediately.

“They can stay short-term,” I said carefully.

Sophia nodded.

“I could let her have one of the houses, but you know what? They wanna make grown folks decisions on day one…”

“They will figure this out together,” she finished with a nod.

Exactly. So glad we were on the same page.

I looked down at my hands, remembering all I had put them through earlier. Somewhere underneath all the leftover emotion, something Dub said started making sense: the pride. I felt it. Not fully. But it was there. When I was Desi’s age, I was floating through life without direction and negotiating against basic household chores like they violated my rights. Meanwhile this girl cares for Logan like he's her own child, makes decisions with little consultation, and apparently got married before breakfast. Watcher. She really was something.

“How’re you feeling about all this?” I asked.

She flinched like she wasn't expecting to be in the hot seat tonight. “I mean…” She looked out across the yard. “Of course I was caught off guard...”

Reasonable.

“I think any sane person would be.” Then she got quieter. “But what’s done is done.”

That sounded very Sophia.

“The only thing left now is making sure they know we’re still here when they need us.”

I nodded because she was right. Our feelings were valid, but they didn’t change the job. Our parenthood app had simply received a major software update we didn't know was coming.

She looked at me carefully. “Listen...”

I already knew this part was the crux of the entire evening.

“I know you’re still upset.” She said it gently. “And I’m not asking you to magically be okay.”

That got my attention.

“But while you’re figuring out what to say to her…” She paused. “I need you to remember something.”

I waited.

“This is what she wanted. And she’s very very happy.”

That one sat with me. Not because I didn’t know it, but because hearing it from Sophia made it harder to avoid.

I exhaled. “I know. I’m working on it.”

She nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.” Then she stood. “Oh—and they’re heading to Josh’s to tell his family now.”

I blinked. “So I get one more night to be avoidant in peace?”

She chuckled. “You do.”

I smiled. “Very generous.”

She leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “Try not to run away again.”

My little guy slept in and gave me a rare quiet morning. I could’ve done anything—jog with Rosie, do yoga, tend the garden, even go back to bed. Instead, I made French toast for my family. I thought I was the first one up, but Desiree was busy on her laptop when I entered the kitchen. When I asked what she was working on, she said she was reading about this fitness festival going on in Gibbi Point today and wanted to know if we could go. And by we, she meant she and I! I felt so special, like someone had just handed me a prestigious award. Those past few months, the closer we got to her birthday, I felt my cool dad points evaporating at an exponential rate. Nice to know I still had a few left.

After hearing the details of the event, however, my regret level rose a bit. Gibbi Point was known for its weirdos, so I should have expected there'd be some level of novelty. They wanted the attendees to wear costumes, and I had no doubt that was half of the appeal for Desi's sudden interest. I was less than thrilled about looking like a goober, but if that's what it took for an afternoon with my daughter, so be it. I didn't even need to comb through my closet to know we'd need to go shopping. My Freezer Bunny onesie was the only thing I had that resembled a costume, but I absolutely refused to wear it around anyone outside my family. My suggestion to make a day of it thrilled Desi even more when I proposed we go to Thrift Tea after breakfast. All morning, a question sat on my tongue: why me? This could’ve easily been a family outing. But the part of me that quietly counted down the days we had left together didn’t dare ask.

The last time I was at that store, I was in such a dark place, afraid to be spotted. I browsed quickly, found what I wanted, and jet like a vampire at sunrise. Stepping across the threshold, I felt like I was visiting for the first time. I stood at the door for a moment, taking in the scene. On one side, gently used clothes and vintage knick-knacks lined the walls and gave the store a unique odor. On the other side was a coffee house set up with a little stage where people were reciting poetry and spoken word. Overpriced lattes aside, I saw the appeal. There was a nice, chill vibe in the air. If this place had existed, I'm sure it would be the spot for me, Less, and our two-and-a-half friends.

The selection of costumes surprised me. I mean, the place turned out to be a goldmine, and I actually had fun combing through them. Some made me laugh. Others I considered taking home for Sophia, heh. There were so many directions I could have taken, but I chose the path of least resistance. If I had to wear a costume, I wanted to look good—and survive a workout in it. I chose the Monte Vistan Soldier, and I looked damn good. When I presented myself to Desi, she shrieked and disappeared into the women's racks. Minutes later, she showed back up in the same costume. Twinsies, as she would say. Naturally, we had to take more than a few selfies.

Shopping with my daughter was big fun. By the time we hit the road to Gibbi Point—which was a bit of a drive—we were riding that high. But as soon as we touched down, everything went downhill. Gibbi Point was huge, with pockets of activities scattered everywhere. Without proper signage, we followed the crowds, only to realize—over and over—we were with the wrong folks. Eventually, we found what looked like our tribe, despite being the only ones in costume. Desi’s icy glare could’ve taken them all out. We could have changed and blended in, but we weren't about to after all the effort we put into choosing them.

It was a spin class on the dock, led by an older woman who looked like she had been cycling since before bikes had gears. I just knew this would be a piece of cake.

Spoiler: it was not.

Class was already in progress, but two bikes were open, so we took them and started. Spinning in a skirt was ... more complicated than I expected. The airflow was nice, I’ll give it that, but there were logistics no one had prepared me for. Once I got myself situated without violating any decency laws, I started pedaling, trying to match the rhythm of the class like I knew what I was doing.

Naturally, I looked for Desi. Even from behind, I knew she was locked in. She leaned forward, steady pace—the poster child for fully committed. She looked like she belonged there. I looked like a man who had made several poor decisions in a row. My head glistened almost immediately. Thighs on fire. Lungs working overtime. At some point, I started questioning every morning I chose comfort over a jog. Whether I was getting old again or just out of shape, I was not prepared for this level of suffering.

Meanwhile, Desi kept going. There’s something deeply humbling about struggling in real time while your child thrives right next to you. I tried to sit up a little straighter, add some power, reclaim a shred of dignity—but my legs had already filed for divorce.

At one point, I spotted an older man out on the lake in a kayak, moving like he had nothing to prove. Calm. Controlled. Free. I wanted that to be me someday. Just … not today. Today, I just needed to not die on this bike.

When Desi finally slowed down, I’ll admit—I got a little hopeful. Not because I wanted her to struggle, but because I desperately needed this to be over. I held on as long as I could, pretending I had more left in the tank than I actually did. Turns out, we both tapped out just minutes before the end.

Desi had to pee, so we found a bathroom right next to a barn with archery lanes set up outside. When Desi saw the station, her eyes lit up like kids at Winterfest. Before disappearing into the bathroom, she announced—very emphatically—we were doing that next. So much for kayaking. Shooting arrows sounded like fun, though. I mean, our spiffy outfits kind of required it. Speaking of, we finally spotted other Sims in costume. They were finishing up their archery session, so Desi and I kicked her soccer ball around while we waited.

They were amateurs, just like us. They didn't even clean up their arrows when they left. Desi and I had to collect them before we could start. We could have done with a short demo or tutorial video or something because we had no idea what we were doing. All we had to go on was whatever we saw on TV. It seemed to serve Desi well, however. She had what looked to me to be good form. Her arrow flew down the lane and landed at 5 points!

I stepped up to the line, feeling quite powerful and sexy in my costume and mighty weapon in my hand. Hopefully it would grant me experience points by osmosis or something. I only got 3 points, but looking at all the missed shots still stuck in the bales of hay and everything else, I was glad I even hit the target, heh.

Just as Desi stepped up for her second turn, a voice over the loudspeaker announced the festival would end in one hour. The disappointment on her face was even louder. Admittedly, I was a bit peeved myself. Getting lost burned up our time, but there was no use getting angry. We could always come back. And when we do, we'll bring the family. That lake had Sophia's name all over it, and I heard there's a huge playground around here somewhere. Maybe when he's older, we'll send him to summer camp here.

As we were about to leave, a group of people in weird hats started chanting and yelling, protesting something I couldn't quite make out. I mistakenly asked what was going on, and this woman shoved a pamphlet in my face, saying they were astral pro-jelly-vangelists. Maturity is knowing when to get involved and when to walk away. This was a walk away situation. I grabbed Desi and got us out of there before we got recruited into … whatever that was.

Disappointments, weirdness, and dying aside, today still felt like a win. Nothing could bring me down—not even that spin class.

Desi didn’t come home that night. Or the next morning. Logically, I knew she was fine. She was with Josh. They were celebrating. They were young adults now. But emotionally? I was one unanswered text away from filing a missing person's report. Sophia and I had just finished cleaning the kitchen after lunch when we heard the front door open. The relief hit first. Then the irritation immediately after. Desi had never been a difficult kid. Never rebellious. Never sneaky. But this one issue kept resurfacing throughout her teen years: communication. I didn’t need details. I didn’t want details. A simple “don’t wait up” would’ve saved me from mentally planning a rescue mission at six in the morning. The second she walked fully into the kitchen, though, all the irritation dissolved. She was fine. More than fine, actually. She looked … different. Not physically. There was just something in her posture now. A confidence. A certainty. Like some invisible line had been crossed overnight and she knew it. And unfortunately, I knew exactly what it was. Watcher, help me.

Josh hovered awkwardly behind her looking like a man who already sensed danger. Smart kid. I pulled her into a hug anyway.

“You scared me,” I muttered.

“Sorry,” she said, though not convincingly.

We settled around the kitchen island, and I tried figuring out how to ask about her night without actually asking about her night. Turns out I didn’t need to.

“WE GOT MARRIED!”

Every single thought left my body. Gone. Just … completely evacuated the premises. I stared at her so long that her expression slowly shifted from excitement to caution.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked carefully.

I blinked once. "What do you mean you got married?"

She rolled her eyes. Being married changed absolutely nothing, apparently.

"We eloped," she said as if that clarified everything.

I heard Sophia inhale beside me.

“Congratulations, sweetie,” she said carefully. Too carefully. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

That tiny pause gave me just enough time to keep myself from reacting badly, but just barely. The thing was—I wanted to be happy. I meant everything I said the night before. I supported her. Them. But somewhere in my mind, I still thought there’d be more time. Time to plan and adjust. I looked forward to walking her down an aisle someday while pretending not to cry in front of everyone, and now that moment didn’t even exist anymore.

"You did this without us?" I asked quietly.

That finally made her soften a little.

“Look,” she said, “I get why you’re upset. But this felt right for us.”

Us. Not me. Not him. Us. And somehow that made it hit even harder.

“Did you think about us at all?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Of course I did.” Her voice tightened slightly. “But this wasn’t about you.”

The kitchen went silent.