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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

B irdy stood in the middle of Kitty’s spare bedroom, arms folded tightly across her chest as her sisters flitted around her like a pair of overly caffeinated sparrows.

Bunny was knee-deep in the closet, muttering about hem lengths and proper neckline etiquette.

Kitty sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through a chaotic pile of dresses, holding each one up like a game show model before tossing it aside.

“You realize I'm the only Chou sister who’s going to have a proper church wedding now,” Bunny said, pulling a navy-blue cocktail dress off a hanger.

Each of the Chou women had gotten married at the town hall in a quickie wedding, starting with Kitten just after she'd turned eighteen.

Then Jacqui saw sparks with Noah and got hitched.

Jules should have had a big wedding with her doctor fiancé, but Fish had stepped in and reeled her in with his devotion to her.

Jami thought she was going to marry her high school boyfriend, but at the last minute—and for a few dollars down—Jed Winchester had pulled a switcheroo which neither of them had come to regret. Tomorrow it would be Birdy's turn.

Kitty held the next dress up to herself as she looked in the mirror. “Maybe my second wedding will be big and splashy.”

All four pairs of eyes slowly turned to her. Birdy lowered her arms from across her chest. Bunny clutched at the hanger she'd been about to replace back on the rod. The baby, from her perch in Beverly’s arms across the room, let out a soft gurgle, almost like she could sense the shift in the air.

Kitty blinked rapidly, using the sleeve of the dress to dab at one eye with her sleeve. Then she pasted on a bright, shaky smile.

Neither Birdy nor Bunny pressed the matter. They hadn’t talked much about Kitty’s absent husband. About the years of silence. About the unanswered texts and unsigned divorce papers.

Instead, Kitty grabbed a soft, creamy dress from the pile and held it out to Birdy. “Wear this one,” she said, her voice a little too cheerful. “You’ll look like a snow queen. But, you know, nice.”

Birdy brushed her fingers over the fabric—smooth, soft, simple. It was perfect. She nodded once at her sister. Kitty returned the nod, as though the whole affair was settled and would never be spoken of again.

A giggle bubbled from the corner. Birdy turned to see Beverly holding the baby, the young mother’s arms tight but loving around the squirming little girl. Beverly’s eyes—wide and dark and still so unsure—locked on Birdy’s.

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Beverly said. “You should find a guy who really loves you. You deserve that.”

Birdy inhaled deeply. She pursed her lips together as she thought about how to reply.

Once upon a time, she would’ve believed that too.

She’d told herself—over and over—that love wasn’t for women like her.

Women who didn’t soften their voices. Women who corrected opinions presented as facts.

Women who refused to laugh politely when a man explained something she already knew.

She’d convinced herself that being strong meant being alone.

But standing here now, the soft glow of the lamp catching the hopeful tilt of the baby’s smile, the quiet strength of her sisters beside her... Birdy saw the truth. She didn’t have to dim to be loved. She just had to be seen.

And Paul—Paul—had seen her from the very beginning. Through their chat. Their texts. Their arguments. Their kisses.

He wasn’t afraid of her fire. He wanted to build a life with it.

Birdy stepped forward, reaching out to touch Beverly’s shoulder. “You deserve it too. You and your baby. You deserve people who love you, who protect you, who stand beside you.”

Beverly bit her lip. But her tooth missed because her lips were trembling. The words rushed out in a ragged whisper: “Zeke—he—he wasn’t always bad.”

Beverly clutched the baby tighter, her voice cracking.

“Sometimes he was sweet. Sometimes he said sorry. He tried to love me...he just didn’t know how.

His mom—she treated him awful. Yelled at him.

Hit him. I thought—” She broke off, swallowing hard.

“I thought if I loved him enough, he could be better.”

Birdy’s heart twisted painfully. Because she recognized that quiet, desperate hope—the one that said if you were just good enough, patient enough, you could fix someone else's brokenness.

“He didn’t mean to,” Beverly whispered. “He just... didn’t know any different. And neither did I.”

Birdy knelt a little so they were eye to eye. Her voice was steady. Unshakable. “Love,” she said firmly, “should never hurt. And it should never make you feel small.”

The baby gurgled happily in Beverly’s arms, kicking her tiny feet, oblivious to the storm that had passed over her young mother’s life. Beverly stared down at her daughter for a long moment. Then she gave a shaky inhale—and nodded.

Kitty moved closer, brushing a hand gently over Beverly’s back. Bunny leaned in, too, her expression fierce and protective. These two girls were about to become Chou women.

Well, technically Winters. But even though each of her sisters and cousins were married and engaged and were taking other families' names, they were still Chou through and through. Beverly and the baby would be too.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Birdy said. “You have all of us now. And you have the right to a life that's bigger and brighter than what you came from.”

The baby clapped her chubby hands together, giggling. Beverly smiled—a real one this time. Tentative. Fragile. Hopeful.

Birdy felt it settle in her bones: She was making the right choice.

She wasn’t just marrying Paul to protect Beverly and the baby.

She was marrying him because she wanted the kind of love that didn’t ask her to shrink.

She wanted a life where all of them could grow bigger, louder, stronger—together.