Chapter 2: The Housewarming Party

Journal Entry:
It has been approximately 120 days since I saved my sister’s wedding.
You’re welcome, sis, by the way.

I do hope—at some point in her long, peaceful, drama-free married life—that she pauses and thinks, Wow. Annalise really held Mom together for me.
Because I did.
Extremely well.
Under very questionable circumstances.

Moving on.

I’ve been trying not to reminisce about… the fall.
You know the one.
The very graceful, elegant, completely intentional descent to the ground.

Unfortunately, my brain refuses to let it go.
Mainly because of him.
The “Bigfoot” guy.

Who was he? Why was he there? And more importantly—why did he look at me like he was silently judging every life decision I’ve ever made?

I mean, yes, I was being a little strange… but in my defense, I was being quiet about it.
Tiptoeing, even. Respectfully.

And then he just—appears.
With that look.
Like he was about to shoot arrows straight through my soul.

Honestly, rude.

Anyway,

Today is my sister’s housewarming party.
Which means there is a very real, very unfortunate possibility…
That Bigfoot attends. Ugh.

I walk through the black door, the kind with those square windows running down the side.
Of course.
It’s one of those modern, see-through doors.

My sister has always loved houses like this—windows everywhere, like the entire place is just… on display. I’ve never understood it. If it were me, I’d have fewer windows. Much fewer. Privacy is a beautiful thing. Highly underrated.

No unexpected eye contact. No accidental judgment from neighbors. No one witnesses my couch days.
You know the ones. Blanket. Snacks. Zero responsibilities.
Just me… and my very handsome little guy, Alfie.

Honestly, I should be home with him right now.
Today feels like a couch day.
But instead—
I’m here.
At a housewarming party.
Surrounded by glass.
And potential witnesses.

…Fantastic.

Alright. Since I’m already inside, I might as well go find my sis—

“Hi, Annie!”

I barely have time to react before she’s suddenly there, rushing toward me with full energy—her husband practically tethered to her side like a very well-dressed accessory.

Iris.
That’s my sister.
And yes, she’s been calling me Annie since she first learned how to talk.
It stuck.
Against my will.

I wrap her in a hug anyway, because despite everything… I do love her.

“Has everyone arrived yet?” I ask, pulling back slightly. Casual. Subtle. Definitely not asking for any specific reason.

Iris doesn’t answer.
Instead, she immediately grabs my arm—her husband still in tow—and starts dragging me through the house like I’m about to be personally guided through a museum exhibit titled: Her Life Is Better Than Yours.

“And this is the living room—look at the lighting!”

Of course.
Iris has always loved to show off.
Every corner is perfectly placed. Every pillow looks like it has never known stress. Not a single item is out of place.

It’s… impressive.
Annoying.
But impressive.

And then it happens.

Bigfoot. Right there. Smirking. Or maybe just neutral. But somehow that look still manages to feel like a full-on soul audit.

“I—I’m Annalise,” I stammer, words rapidly escaping my throat. “Iris’s sister. And… obviously her favorite one.”

I immediately cringe. Favorite? Who even says that out loud? Me, apparently.

Bigfoot—Kent, apparently—is looking at me. Same look. Judgy. Penetrating. Like he’s cataloging all of my flaws alphabetically and chronologically.

Iris, of course, is beaming. Her grin stretches from one side of the room to the other, like she just unleashed a tiny chaos tornado that only she knows about.

“Don’t be shy!” Iris chirps, nudging me forward. “Kent loves meeting new people.”

Kent waits until my sister drifts off, leaving just the two of us. The air suddenly feels… smaller. More focused. Like it knows exactly what’s about to happen.

“So,” he starts, calm, almost too calm, “last time—you slapped my hand. Why was that?”

I blink. My brain stalls. I slapped his hand? Oh no. I did not—did I?

“And also,” he adds, leaning slightly closer, “why were you behaving so strangely? Everyone was watching… and then you fell flat on your face.”

He leans just a bit closer, that same unshakable look fixed on me. I can’t tell if he’s trying to intimidate me… or genuinely annoy me. Seriously. Who is this guy?

At least I don’t have big hands. That’s something.

I take a breath, stand a little taller, and summon my best confident, “don’t-mess-with-me” voice. “What’s it to you? I was only trying to stop my mom from making a mess of the wedding. She always hears me coming, so I had to tiptoe. Everyone knows that—guess you didn’t pick up on it.”

Kent doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Just watches, that faint, almost-smile tugging at his lips.

My brain screams: Okay, that’s enough. Back off. But also… don’t back off. Stay confident. You’ve got this.

Meanwhile, I feel like a cat trying to look cool while someone is quietly judging every move I make.

“And yet,” he says, voice calm, but with that subtle edge, “you still managed to fall spectacularly. Tiptoeing or not.”

I grit my teeth. Oh, great. Now he’s gloating. Fantastic.

I open my mouth to fire back—clever, witty, devastatingly sarcastic—but then, of course, my sister’s laugh echoes across the room. Cue the perfect distraction.

Thank God.

I take a tiny, almost imperceptible step back, letting the moment slide, and begin to walk away, making my way toward the kitchen.

As I turn, I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. And now, I am even more confused about what his perception is of me.

Kent’s Thoughts: I don’t know if she’s trying to be serious or scare me. It’s not working… She just looks cute. Just like a little bunny.

A flicker of curiosity—or maybe amusement—crosses his face. And just like that, I know he’s thinking something obviously is wrong with me.

As I weave through the crowd, I can’t help but notice just how much effort Iris put into everything. Every corner sparkles, every snack is perfectly plated, every throw pillow is practically screaming: Iris made this herself! Honestly, I’m impressed. And also slightly exhausted just by standing in the same room.

I finally reach her, just as she’s deep in what looks like a very important conversation with Dad. I pause, trying to figure out if I should wait or—like any responsible older sister—jump in and rescue him from financial exhaustion.

Of course, I do the logical thing. I get right in between them. Perfectly subtle. Totally natural.

“Hi,” I chirp. Casual. Totally casual.

Dad’s eyes widened, as if I just popped out of nowhere. Iris freezes mid-sentence, mid-pitch, like she’s trying to explain something monumental and secret.

“…So, Dad,” she says, picking up again, “we were thinking about maybe getting some help for baby stuff, you know, like furniture, supplies… essentials.”

Dad blinks. Twice. Slowly, carefully, his voice comes out like he’s negotiating with a very determined toddler. “I… I bought the house for you both. And now you want me to… buy baby things too? What about your husband? Doesn’t he make enough?”

Iris is surprised and a little embarrassed by Dad’s response. She quickly looks at me, hinting that I should help her get her way in this discussion. Apparently, she believes Dad listens to me more than anyone else—for some reason.

I glance at Iris. Yep. That’s her. The tiny look, the subtle eyebrow raise—Annie, save me. Classic.

I clear my throat and plant my hands on my hips like I mean business. “Dad,” I start, voice calm but firm, “Iris is not asking for a handout. She’s asking for a reasonable start. You’ve already set up the house, yes—but furniture, diapers, baby gear… it’s a little different. Think of it as investing in grandparent points. Huge returns.”

Dad groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two are going to ruin me financially before the baby even shows up.”

I can’t help but smile. “Dad, I’m only being logical… thinking about my future nephew—or niece.”

And that’s when I notice him. Out of the corner of my eye, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, observing the entire spectacle like it’s a personal reality show.

Kent.

He tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, clearly entertained.

And just like that, I realize… surviving future encounters with this guy will not be easy.