Page 166 of Clinically Bewitched
“Big enough for three kids.”
“The attic conversion will be expensive.”
“We’ll manage.”
“There’s wallpaper in the master bedroom that appears to be from 1987.”
“We’ll remove it.”
“The front steps are cracked.”
“We’ll fix them.”
“The—”
“Julien,” she said gently. “Do you like the house?”
I looked around—at the worn hardwood floors and the outdated fixtures, and the wallpaper that definitely needed to go.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even close to perfect.
But it felt... right.
“Okay,” I said. “This is our house.”
“I like the house.”
“Then it’s our house.”
“Really?” Her voice was full of joy.
“Really.”
“I told you the universe would provide.”
“The universe,” I said, “is still a menace. But occasionally, very occasionally, it gets something right.”
Behind me, I heard Hayden say, “Did he just admit the universe was right?”
“I think he did,” Fitz said.
“Someone mark this day,” Quinton added. “Julien Darcy acknowledged that not everything can be controlled.”
“I can still hear you,” I called.
“We know!” they said in unison.
I looked at my colleagues, at my sister, at this imperfect house that somehow felt exactly right.
The universe had tested me.
Again.
And this time, I’d learned something.
Some things couldn’t be spreadsheet-managed.
Some things couldn’t be organized or controlled or planned.
