[EVE]
I had exactly five seconds of peace before chaos resud.
The jet had barely landed and my feet had barely hit Manhattan soil when I found myself leading a parade of luggage, designer shoes, blueprints, suspicious duffel bags, and human beings toward my humble two-bedroom apartnt in SoHo.
I chose to stay here even if it was the smallest out of my apartnts because this is the only apartnt Cole didn’t know about, and I didn’t step into it carrying any mories of him.
Anyway, back to leading my family here, and by "leading," I an getting dragged by my father’s vision, my brothers’ enthusiasm, and my mom’s determination to beat her step count goal for the day.
"Here we are," I said dryly, unlocking the door to my building with the weight of doom in my chest. "Welco to my apartnt."
Everyone stopped.
Everyone stared.
And then—
"Oh. It’s . . . cozy," Dean said tactfully, which in Frizkiel family terms ant, "This is barely bigger than a walk-in closet."
Damien squinted at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. "Are these . . . popcorn tiles? Who still uses popcorn tiles?"
"It’s rent-controlled," I muttered.
Mom turned to Dad with a straight face. "If we renovate, can we knock down this wall and turn it into a penthouse?"
Dad was already pacing the living room, blueprint magically reappearing in his hands. "Might be faster to just buy the whole building."
"YOU’RE NOT BUYING THE BUILDING," I snapped.
Dante poked his head into the kitchen and imdiately frowned. "There’s no sterile area. How are you supposed to store surgical tools?"
"It’s a kitchen, Dante."
"Exactly."
By the ti I dropped my bag and turned around, Damien was already walking toward the back.
"Which room is yours?" he asked.
"No."
"I’ll take the couch," Dean offered graciously. "The light in the morning here will make my cheekbones look god-tier."
"There are two bedrooms," I said, my voice rising. "And five of you."
"We’ll make it work," Mom said with a beatific smile, tossing her fur-lined coat onto my chair like she owned the place. "We’ll bunk together."
"You’re what now?"
Dean plopped onto the couch. "I’ll share with Dante."
Dante raised an eyebrow. "Only if you don’t sleep talk again."
"I recite affirmations in my sleep. Get it right."
"I’m bunking with Eve," Damien declared.
"YOU’RE WHAT?"
Everybody suddenly wanted to share the bed with .
"I’ll sleep on the floor. Or the balcony. Or I’ll suspend myself from the ceiling like Batman. It’s fine."
"It’s NOT FINE," I exploded, hands flailing. "You’re all insane! You can’t just cram into my apartnt like it’s a clown car!"
They all stared at .
And then, in unison—
"Sure we can."
"Watch us."
"It’s what families do."
I opened my mouth, but no sound ca out. Because what even was the counterargunt? That I wanted peace? Silence? Alone ti? I did. I really, really did.
But instead, I just stood there, speechless at their unapologetic shalessness.
They were walking disasters. Loud, bossy, overbearing disasters.
And my heart had never felt so full.
Because I knew—without them saying it—that this wasn’t about space. Or convenience. Or even real estate empires and fashion weeks and cadaver lectures.
This was about making up for lost ti. Years of being separated from them.
Now they had excuses to be with even at the cost of their own careers.
Bad, hilariously transparent excuses.
And all of them led back to .
"You really want to stay here?" I asked softly.
Dad, ever the stoic and calm one, nodded and put a hand on my shoulder. "Don’t worry. This is temporary."
I exhaled in relief.
"I’m already looking into land uptown," he added.
There it was.
"Of course you are," I said.
"I’m thinking a compound," he continued. "A mansion with wings. A private elevator. Underground parking. Panic rooms."
"Why would we need panic rooms?"
"Damien says New York is dangerous."
Damien folded his arms. "I don’t trust Victor and that ex of yours, and all the male around you."
"We’ve been here ten minutes."
"That’s long enough."
Mom was already pulling out fabric samples from her Mary Poppins bag. "I was thinking French country for the foyer, but maybe Scandinavian minimalism would go better with Eve’s complexion."
"I don’t have a foyer."
"You will, darling."
anwhile, Dean was asuring the walls with his phone cara and an AR app.
"What are you doing now?" I asked.
"Visualizing the perfect light angles for my selfies."
"I should’ve left you all on the runway." (Spring fashion event)
"I was the runway," he said with a hair toss.
Dante poked his head out of the bathroom. "This mirror is not surgical-grade."
"STOP TRYING TO PERFORM SURGERY IN MY BATHROOM."
"I’m not performing surgery. I’m preparing for the possibility of one."
"You’ve been here fifteen minutes!"
"A lot can happen in fifteen minutes," he said gravely. "Like your ex and those other males coming here."
Damien sat on my bean bag chair like a king taking his throne. "This place needs security. Motion sensors. A retina scanner."
"It needs space," I muttered, walking toward the window for a breath of sanity.
But when I turned around—when I saw all of them bickering and laughing and tripping over each other’s bags and elbowing for fridge space—I felt it again.
That warmth.
That stupid, overwhelming, breath-stealing love.
They were ridiculous.
But they were mine.
And they were here.
I let out a long sigh and rubbed my temples. "Fine. You can stay. For now."
Five cheers erupted around .
Mom kissed both my cheeks. "You’ll never regret this."
I already regretted it.
Dean pulled into a hug. "We’ll be the it family of New York."
Dante patted my head. "I brought an extra toothbrush for you. It has dical-grade bristles."
Damien tossed a keychain that read #1 Sister.
"You don’t have to worry about a thing, Eve. I’ll handle all your businesses and turn them into a billion-dollar empire."
"Ah . . . no."
Dad smiled and opened his laptop. "Let’s start planning that mansion."
I shook my head.
There would be no peace.
There would be no quiet.
But as I looked around my too-small apartnt, overflowing with love and luggage and people I never thought would show up for like this—
I realized I didn’t want peace.
I wanted this.
This ssy, noisy, wonderful family of mine.
Even if they drove completely insane.
Especially because they loved so loudly.
And sowhere in the middle of the chaos, the late lunches, the couch wars, and the panic room blueprints—I found myself smiling.
Because this wasn’t just New York anymore.
This was going to be ho too.
And it had never felt more like it.
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