Chapter 257

Chapter 257
Noah

It felt like the whole world had squeezed itself into that one house for New Year’s Eve.

The table was ridiculous. Completely overloaded. There were catered trays stacked beside homemade dishes, mountains of bread, bowls of steaming food, pies cooling on the counter like a Pinterest board had exploded. Candles flickered everywhere. Someone had strung lights along the ceiling, and they glowed like warm little stars.

And the laughter never stopped.

Margaret and Mrs. Hart prayed over the food, thanking God for healing and new beginnings. Emily squeezed my hand under the table. 

Miguel told terrible jokes, competing with Micah for the title of holiday clown. Between their 24/7 sass, diva attitudes, and sexual innuendos neither of our mothers understood—thank goodness—they kept everyone laughing.

Keon, completely oblivious to the inside references to the club, was proud as could be that we had all taken to Rosaline so quickly. Lexie and Micah kept whispering things to each other that definitely didn’t belong in polite dinner conversation. Hale watched over all of us like the world’s most intimidating shepherd who secretly really loved his sheep.

And me?

I just kept leaning back into Aiden’s chest and thinking:

This.
This is home.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Keon excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Which was apparently the signal for all of us to collectively lose our minds, because the second he disappeared around the corner, every head at our end of the table slowly swiveled toward Luna.

“Okay,” Micah whispered dramatically. “Explain. Everything. Now.”

Lexie leaned in at the same time I did. “Oh my God, how did this happen? Did you know who we were?”

Luna blinked at all of us, then laughed nervously. “Hell no—” She froze, slapped a hand over her mouth, and turned wide-eyed toward the moms. “I am so, so sorry.”

Margaret patted her hand. “Sweetheart, we raised Noah. We’ve heard worse.”

Mrs. Hart nodded serenely over her tea. “Much worse.”

Luna exhaled and spun back to us. “Okay. Right. So. No. I didn’t know. I mean, I knew about his friends, Noah and Lexie…but I didn't know it was you two! You never told me your real names.... To me, you’re Xion. And you’re Emerald.” She pointed helplessly between us two. "And Mr. A... You're coach Aiden...?"

The mothers exchanged a glance that clearly said: ah, yes, the children and their elaborate little improv theater games.

Miguel, on the other hand, was totally confused. “What are we talking about?”

We ignored him.

He sighed. “You know I'm gonna find out, right?”

Micah covered his face. “My God... And when you do find out, you better keep it to yourself.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked softly. “He’s also gonna find out eventually.”

“I know.” Luna twisted her napkin between her fingers. “I’ve been…introducing the subject. He knows I ‘act,’ and he suspects it’s not exactly rated G anymore…” She winced. “I've dropped so many hints! We’ve talked a little about …the life. He seems open-minded. I just don’t know how to tell him the rest yet.”

“Maybe we should all do it together at some point,” I said gently. “But he needs to know.”

“I know,” she whispered.

And right then Keon came back—beaming, mid-story—launching straight into a football recap while kissing her cheek like nothing in the world could possibly be weird.

Conversation: instantly reset.

We all smiled like angels.
Bad, terrible angels.
And somehow… we knew it would all work out.

Later on, we toasted. We prayed again. We toasted a third time because Keon said the second toast wasn’t poetic enough. Hale lifted his glass like a king granting a decree.

Then the games came out.

White Elephant.

Bad idea... Best idea. The gift stealing began!

“Anyone touches my gift,” Hale said calmly, “and there will be consequences.”

Micah gasped dramatically. “Sir, that’s not in the spirit of Christmas.”

“It’s New Year’s,” Hale replied.

“Even worse,” Micah said, cradling his chosen package like a dragon egg.

Lexie squealed when she opened a tiny painting set. “Look! I can paint a whole universe!”

Emily immediately stole it.

Lexie gasped like she’d witnessed a murder.

“You did not.”

“I did,” Emily said sweetly.

Keon slapped the table. “Savage.”

Meanwhile, Luna stole someone’s bottle of Baileys and hugged it like a newborn.

“It’s legal,” she said. “The rules said stealing was allowed.”

Miguel whispered, “I didn’t think we meant…emotionally.”

There was so much laughter my cheeks hurt. So much love I thought my chest might burst.

Along the evening, Aiden had been the perfect host. Welcoming. Warm. Making sure everyone had a drink, a blanket, a seat, a laugh. He moved through the room like gravity, drawing people into comfort without even trying. And yet…every so often, I’d catch something else beneath it.

A flicker.
Like nerves.

A tiny crack of distraction behind his eyes, gone as fast as it came. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the weight of the night and all of us crammed together into one house bursting with love and chaos and second chances.
At least…I hoped that was all it was.
No more complications. No more storms...

Just joy.

Midnight crept closer, and suddenly Micah shouted:

“Grapes! My country's tradition!”

Which meant one thing.
The bowls came out like magic. Twelve grapes each. One for every clock strike. One wish per grape. A European practice of faith and superstition spread around our living room.
We crowded together, glasses ready, grapes in hand.

“Ten!” someone yelled.

We laughed because the clock hadn’t even started yet.

Then the actual countdown began.

Twelve.

We ate the first grape.

Eleven.

Chewing, trying to keep up.

Ten.

Someone already choking with laughter.

Nine.

Keon dropped one and insisted it still counted.

Eight.

Lexie stuffed two at once and regretted it immediately.

Seven.

Emily cried from laughing too hard.

Six.

Margaret patted her chest and declared she needed a bigger mouth.

Five.

“I was not built for this level of pressure,” Micah said.

Four.

Miguel cheered every single grape like a sports victory.

Three.

Hale didn’t even blink. Professional.

Two.

My wish lodged itself right under my ribs.

One.

I swallowed the last grape and closed my eyes.

Let this year bring love for all.

Then the room exploded.

“Happy New Year!”

Cheers. Laughter. Kisses. Hugs everywhere. Glasses clinking. Music turning up. Margaret crying happy tears and insisting she wasn’t. Lexie hugging her mother, Micah, then Hale then all of us. Keon sweeping Luna into a spin like an idiot. Miguel yelling “WE SURVIVED!” like we’d won a war.

And me?

I pressed myself into Aiden’s chest.

He kissed me slow, soft, certain... But even then…his heart beat just a little too fast beneath my cheek.
And I pretended not to notice, just for a little while longer.

Slowly, the craziness began to fade. The laughter softened. Music eased into something gentle and golden. People collapsed into their seats with drinks in hand, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, like the whole room was wrapped in a warm exhale.

I melted back against Aiden’s chest, already drifting into that sleepy-happy feeling that only comes after good food, too much sugar, and being loved by an entire room at once.

Then he slipped away.
Not far. Just…away.

I blinked and reached for him before my mind even caught up.

“Where are you going?” I asked, half-pouting, half-playful.

He didn’t answer.

And that was when the lights dimmed.

Not a lot—just enough for the room to hush. Enough for candles to glow brighter. Enough for my heart to climb straight up into my throat.

Two violinists stepped forward from the archway—like something out of a dream—and began to play the sweetest, tenderest melody I’d ever heard. Warm. Pure. Gentle enough to hold.

Everyone froze.
Smiles softened. Eyes widened.

Aiden turned toward the fireplace for just a moment, closing a small drawer with quiet care—then walked back to me slow and steady. Except…
His hands were trembling.

He stopped right in front of me. The world fell away—voices, fire, music—all of it turning into this soft blur around us, and then he reached into his pocket.

My lungs forgot how to work.

A tiny box appeared in his fingers—the very one he had just tucked away—and before my mind could form a single thought, Aiden dropped to one knee and the room vanished.
My vision tunneled.
I think my mouth opened. I know my heart did. Everything hit me at once—shock, disbelief, joy, terror, love so fierce it burned. It was like standing in front of a tidal wave and letting it crash through me.
My eyes were huge. My breath shattered in my throat.

He looked up at me—my Aiden, strong and sure and trembling—and his voice broke in the gentlest way.

“I’m going nowhere, baby boy. Not now, not ever.”