To the three hearts who are now part of mine.
It hasn’t been built yet—
not in timber or stone—
but I see it clearly.
A house at the edge of the world,
where the wind carries laughter instead of ghosts,
and nothing hurts the way it used to.
Inside, it’s a little chaotic.
There are muddy footprints and forgotten cups of tea.
A forgotten sock under the sofa.
Luca’s rockets in the plant pots.
Billie curled up in her usual sunbeam.
Joel humming something under his breath in the kitchen.
Tilly’s newest artwork taped wonky on the fridge.
And me—watching, gathering,
holding it all in my chest like breath I never want to exhale.
It’s not perfect.
But it is ours.
And it is everything.
Tilly, my wild star,
you burn so brightly it blinds me sometimes.
You feel the world more deeply than it was meant to be felt.
You rage and you cry and you love like it might save someone.
And it does. Every single day, it saves me.
Luca, you are light wrapped in chaos.
Curious and funny and unfiltered.
You made space for me without hesitation—
and in return, I’ll keep the world soft for you, whenever I can.
Joel, you came into this mess of a heart
and never once asked me to clean it up first.
You saw the cracks and kissed them anyway.
You are my quiet place, my reset button, my tomorrow.
This house—this future—isn’t fantasy.
It’s not a story I tell myself to get through hard days.
It’s real. I’ve seen it.
We built it this weekend—
with waffles and beach castles and one soft moment at a time.
This is the life we’re writing together,
not as a replacement for what came before,
but as proof that love doesn’t run out.
It reshapes. It expands.
It waits.
I love you. All three of you.
Fiercely. Honestly. Forever.
And in the Summer House,
you’ll always have a home.