146

The calendar wasn't special. It was a free one Pepper had tossed onto the counter with a stack of mail and a casual, "You'll need this eventually." No leather binding. No embossed dates. Just clean white pages and thin black lines.

Athena flipped it open the next morning while coffee brewed—too strong, because Carol had eyeballed the measurements and called it confidence. They sat at the small kitchen table, knees brushing. Morgan was in her high chair, enthusiastically attacking a banana. Maverick lay at Athena's feet. Sage kept watch near the window. Athena turned the page slowly. "Okay. No pressure." Carol leaned back in her chair, arms crossed loosely. "None." They didn't talk much as the pages turned. Spring passed. Summer lingered. Fall arrived with crisp edges. Carol stopped her finger on a date in early autumn.

"That one," she said. Athena paused. Looked. Thought about it—not the logistics, not the guest list, not the weather. Just how it felt. "It's quiet," Athena said. Carol nodded. "And I'll be here." Athena smiled, small and certain. She picked up a pen—not the fancy one Tony had tried to hand her, but the one already on the table—and circled the date once. No flourish. No announcement.

Just a circle. Carol reached over and covered Athena's hand with hers, holding it there a second longer than necessary.  "That's us," Carol said softly. Athena glanced up. "Yeah." Morgan chose that moment to slap the table, banana landing squarely on the calendar page. Carol laughed. "She approves." Athena closed the calendar gently, like it might seal something. "Guess it's official." No confetti. No countdown. Just a date, chosen together, sitting quietly in the middle of a morning that already felt like the future.