Chapter 9 - The First Spring
The dogwood trees outside our Alexandria brownstone burst into full bloom by May, painting the historic streets in shades of delicate pink and ivory. Julian was nearly five months old now, a chubby-cheeked, endlessly curious little boy who treated every new rattle like a major corporate breakthrough.
We decided to host a small, intimate gathering in our backyard—our first real party since rebuilding our lives. There were no politicians, no board members, and no corporate flatterers. Just Maren’s sister, a few of our closest college friends who had stayed loyal through the messy divorce, and an elderly neighbor named Mrs. Gable who baked peach cobbler and pinched Julian's cheeks until he giggled.
As I stood by the barbecue grill flipping burgers while holding a plastic beer cup, Maren walked out onto the patio, carrying Julian on her hip. The afternoon sun caught her smile, and for a fleeting second, my mind drifted back to that freezing Christmas Eve when I had pounded on her door with my heart full of bitterness and suspicion. How different everything could have been if I had let pride win that night.
"Penny for your thoughts," Maren said, handing me a fresh towel to wipe my hands.
"I was just thinking about how close I came to losing everything," I admitted honestly, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close, careful to leave space for Julian.
"Well, you were an absolute idiot that night," she teased gently, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Pounding on my door like a debt collector."
"I was a terrified, arrogant fool who didn't deserve you," I replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And yet, here we are."
"Because beneath all that corporate armor, you're actually a pretty decent guy, Everett," she whispered, leaning her head against my shoulder.
May you like
Later that afternoon, as our friends laughed and clinked glasses around the wooden picnic table, I walked down to the edge of the garden with Julian perched securely on my shoulders. He reached out with both hands, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and babbling happily at the swaying trees.
I looked back toward the porch where Maren was laughing with her sister, her face glowing with a happiness that no amount of money could ever buy or manufacture. The past was gone, the corporate ghosts had been laid to rest, and our future was stretching out before us like an open, sunlit road.
