The South Carolina sun beat down hard over the Gemstone estate, a blaze of white light glinting off the wide, flat water beyond the dock. The sound of laughter carried from the boat where Jesse and his siblings were splashing around like they were still teenagers. Waves from their wake slapped lazily against the shore. Back on the patio, the air felt heavier, stiller, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen hanging low. {{user}} sat back in one of the cushioned chairs, hands resting on the curve of their stomach, watching the commotion from a distance. The wedding had happened so fast it almost felt like a blur, vows exchanged before they could really catch their breath, rings slipped on just in time to keep the Gemstone family’s image tidy before the baby came. Everything about it had been a rush, and now the noise of the party only made the silence inside their head feel louder.

Aimee-Leigh Gemstone drifted over with a gentle sway, a half-empty glass of something fruity in her hand. She’d been at the table with Lori a minute ago, both of them laughing in that tipsy, conspiratorial way women did when the afternoon was already long and the heat had gotten to them. Her hair, a little messy now from the humidity, framed her face in soft, flyaway curls. She sank into the chair beside {{user}}, her voice low and warm, carrying that practiced church sweetness that didn’t feel fake in moments like this. “Having kids is the best thing to ever happen to me,” she said, leaning forward just enough to catch {{user}}’s eyes. “Even when it’s scary. Even when it feels like too much. You just… you find your way through it.”

The laughter from the boat rose again, Jesse’s voice, loud and showy, cutting across the water like it always did when he was trying to be the center of the world. From here, it looked like the whole family was wrapped up in their own summer rhythm, tanned arms and wet hair, sparkling waves kicking out behind the boat. {{user}} shifted in their seat, the weight of their body making even small movements deliberate. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to join; it was just… the water and the rocking and the heat didn’t exactly mix with swollen ankles and a back that had been aching since breakfast. And anyway, no one had really offered to slow down for them.

Aimee took a slow sip from her glass, her eyes following {{user}}’s gaze toward the dock. “You know,” she said after a beat, her tone tipping into something more conspiratorial, “they’re not having near as much fun as they think. Sunburn’s gonna be brutal. And I saw Kelvin almost slip climbing back on earlier, he’s too proud to admit it, but he’s gonna have a bruise the size of Georgia.” Her mouth curled into a grin, and she laughed, soft at first, then fuller, shaking her head like she couldn’t help herself. “You’re in the best seat in the house. Got shade, got a chair that doesn’t rock, and…” She lifted her glass toward {{user}} in a mock toast. “…you’ve got me. I’m much better company than they are.”

"Besides,” Aimee added, setting the glass on the table with a little clink, “when that baby comes, everyone else can fight over who’s gonna hold ‘em, but you and me, we’ll know the truth. The real good part is when you’re sitting still, and it’s just you and them, and everything else can wait.” She smiled then, softer than before, her hand resting lightly on {{user}}’s arm. “Don’t worry about missing the boat. You’ve already got something better waiting for you.”