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"He says hi," Doyle reported.
"Hi, Pierce. I hear I’ll be seeing you soon."
"Okay. So. This weekend. We want a full tour. I want to see the house and the porch because you made it all look nice and cozy, but I need proof."
"We can do that."
Doyle continued on as if I weren’t speaking. "And I want to see the town. Like, where you go. What it looks like. The whole thing."
"Also doable." By then, the other Princess Pack members had gone quiet, their gazes ping-ponging between me and Doyle like they were watching a pickleball match.
"I want to eat at the place your pops has been raving about online. The one with the biscuits."
My eyes closed at the news that my pops was turning into a food influencer or some shit. The man was really doing the most.
"Pops will love that," I pointed out instead of asking more about said social media.
From inside the house, I heard the back screen door open, and then Pops stepped out with his own mug, still in the faded green t-shirt he'd slept in, squinting a little against the morning. He looked at my phone screen, then his face lit up.
"Morning, everybody. It’s going to be a good day when I see so many adorable and friendly faces around," he said to the screen specifically.
"Good morning," Princess Aster greeted warmly. The others chimed in, each with big smiles for the man beside me.
"The whole pack?" Pops tilted his head towards the phone. “Must have been important.”
His statement brought out more questions and chaos from my friends. They poked at him for information, then listened raptly as he portrayed it all in that way of his I loved so much—part storyteller, part dramatic performance.
"I love him," Doyle said once Pops left to go back inside
"He loves you too. All of you. As much as he likes this place, I know he’ll miss seeing you all you pop by my place when he’s there too."
"Okay," Princess Aster spoke with a gentle firmness. He was back in charge. "We'll let you go. We just wanted to see your face. And you should know—we're all proud of you. Genuinely. You’re an amazing human, a fantastic ball player, and I’m sure a great Daddy."
I thought about how weird it was to feel homesick for something you hadn't lost. They were right there. I could see them. Hear them. Two of these men would be here in person soon.
Yet it still felt like a part of me was missing.
"Thanks," I whispered. "For calling."
"Don't go quiet again. Send more pictures. Don’t think we don’t want to see it. We do." Fisher’s firm words were so uncharacteristic of him that I knew I wouldn’t forget.
"I'll be better. You’ll hear from me."
The call ended shortly after we exchanged goodbyes. I sat back in my chair looking out at the patch of land I would call mine. At the space Pops and I had claimed.
It was home. It was ours.
Friday
Pierce:Flight landed on time. See you soon.
Doyle:WE ARE IN LOUISIANA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
The latter had a trail of random emojis behind it, none of which made sense together. I suspected his excitement was to blame.
Paxton:Here’s my address. Just park on the street since I have no doubt you’re going to rent a car.
There was zero chance of Pierce relying on rideshares during his trip. Heck, he wouldn’t even want to have me or Pops drive him around. The man liked moving at his own pace.
