I'm Jess. I take silly sims things and turn it into your new favorite show, tee hee. Welcome! Me: 44 | INFJ | loves gum, hot drinks, Twizzlers, blue pens | Rated: PG-13ish
Thank you for stopping by! I am Jes2G, but you can call me Jess. I’m a long-time simmer turned storyteller with a serious CAS addiction. 😁 That’s pretty much my Sims life, making stories and making sims! Most of my gameplay drifts into story mode, which is what I mainly post. Here are the stories I have going currently. I hope you’ll find something you enjoy!
1. The Piersons & Friends is a rotation story starring the Pierson family and a few of their close friends. The Piersons’ story is told legacy style, and it all began with Kameron Pierson saving Strangerville. Click here to get more information about this story.
2. aDOLTing is an ISBI challenge founded by Amina Pope. Some drama in her past drove her to Sulani for a personal retreat, but she fell in love with the island and never returned. She focused on healing and falling in love with herself while spreading self-love to others. A random visit from a handsome neighbor totally disrupted her solitude. Click here to learn more about this story.
I love answering questions and hearing how you feel about my stories and characters! I’m pretty chill and don’t bite, so stop by the ask box if you’d like. If you want me to reply privately, add a zippered mouth emoji (🤐) to your message so I’ll know not to reply publicly.
Also, as you can see by my age, I’m very much an adult. Although I don’t make a habit of posting sim spice, my pixel folks may occasionally get frisky. Those posts are tagged #sim spice and/or #nsfw. Young viewers, this is your only warning. Act accordingly.
Take care, and stay safe!
- Jess
P.S. Here are some other tags I often use in case you’re only here for the stories.
non sims
Jes2Random (for my extremely random nonsense lol)
cas junkie
other simmers stuff
cc reblog
story stuff (updates about my stories)
announcements (updates about my stories and other things)
It's about to get very real, kids! Strap in. And see? Melany does use her legal name from time to time. 🥰 When she's not being famous, she loves being known as simply Nick's wife.
If I was going to be pressure cooking in a heatwave making CC, I figured it may as well be summer CC. The Retro Riviera Collection will have your sims looking perfect as they stroll along the streets of...Tartosa. Yes, Tartosa again!
Details below:
Sylvie Dress - Is it a dress? Is it a long top? This confused garment boasts button details on the shoulders and a flattering gathered empire waist. Could be perfect for displaying a bump, or equally eating a big dinner (because that's when I wear an empire waist). Also has an overlay for the shorts, waist detail, and buttons.
Swatches: 60
Polys: 4908
Pascal Set - Be centre of attention in this summer shirt and high-waisted shorts combo! Your friends will all be jealous of your timeless style, and your waist line will be higher than your hopes for humanity! Classic look. Comes with an overlay for the shorts.
Swatches: 60
Polys: 4618
Portofino Earrings - A classic pair of 60s acrylic earrings to compliment a variety of outfits. A scary surprise is included if you know where to look...
Swatches: A sensible 70
Polys: 3568
Ivy Shoes - A pair of low-heeled, leather pumps with cut out details. Perfect addition to that 60s/70s summer outfit without summoning the demon known as Morton's neuroma. Don't get old, kids!
Swatches: 50
Polys: 422
Please let me know if there are any issues! I've tested everything, but it's been a minute since I've done more than earrings or rugs 💜
That was the quickest drop off lol. The youngest kid always gets shafted, tee hee. They think it's for the best, though. She'll negotiate and whine until the very end.
I keep forgetting I have a baby (possibly 2!) to name lol. I have a few ideas for Anissa's baby, but I would love to hear yours before I settle on one. What kinds of names do you think she and Jorden would throw out?
I know there's only about 3.5 of you who even know who these sims are, but I am soooo excited to introduce them to you! Maya is from my first legacy story, Pruett Family Legacy. She is the first born of generation 10, and the story ended shortly after she was born. I created a spin-off story called Delicious Dishes & Dreams that continued the story but also began as a restaurant challenge I made up. I never finished that story and don't intend to, so as I was putting together this new Pierson save and thinking of who could be part of it, I thought of Maya and Ranveer, and her sister Aubrey and family. Aubrey is a restauranteur, so we'll probably hear more about her when we're with Rodney. But anyway, Maya has an important role to play soon, so I figured we should meet her first. They live in Oasis Springs, so I'm sure they'll be welcomed additions to Melanick's crew.
For those who read Delicious Dishes & Dreams, let me know if you're interested in how it was supposed to end. I may not want to finish, but I definitely want to give you some closure.
Here's the article text for easier reading.
It's Finally Maya's Turn
By Averie Hart, Senior Features Editor
The Pulse is coming back.
Yes, really.
After a quiet disappearance from most people's watch lists, Sim.TV's celebrity interview series is getting a second chance. The original version, hosted by Orange Bailey-Moon, built a loyal following thanks to thoughtful conversations and fan-submitted questions before eventually fading into the ever-growing graveyard of entertainment concepts that sounded good on paper.
What no one expected was who would revive it: Sim.TV's own CEO, Maya Singh.
Yes, that Maya.
The woman with the corner office.
The one who signs the checks.
The boss lady herself.
Naturally, we assumed there was a strategy presentation involved. There was not. Instead, there was Maya.
M: I got tired of watching everyone else have all the fun.
We initially assume she's joking. Forty-five minutes later, we're reasonably certain she wasn't. For someone who runs one of SimNation's largest entertainment companies, Maya spends a surprising amount of time talking about fun. Not growth. Not metrics. Not shareholder confidence. Fun.
M: I think people assume I wanted this career.
AH: You didn't?
M: Not even a little.
That answer catches us off guard. Mostly because Maya Singh is very good at her job. Annoyingly good, if her career history is any indication. What began as a low-level social media position eventually became a tour through what appears to be nearly every department in the company.
Community management.
Writing.
Public relations.
Communications.
Leadership.
Executive leadership.
More executive leadership.
And eventually CEO.
M: I just kept saying yes.
AH: That's a strategy?
M: Apparently.
R: She's leaving out the part where she was good at all of them.
M: Nobody likes a showoff.
R: You're not a showoff.
M: Thank you.
R: You're an overachiever.
Maya narrows her eyes. Ranveer smiles. We've been here less than ten minutes. This is apparently their dynamic. For the record, Ranveer Singh wasn't supposed to be part of this interview. In practice, interviewing Maya while her husband sits nearby appears to be impossible. Not because he interrupts. Because she keeps talking to him. And because, despite being one of the most recognizable executives in entertainment, Maya seems significantly more interested in having a conversation than giving an interview. Which, as it turns out, explains quite a lot.
The higher Maya climbed within Sim.TV, the further she drifted from the thing she loved most.
People.
M: I had this huge office. Everybody thought it was impressive.
R: It was impressive.
M: It was lonely.
That lands with surprising weight. Because for all the talk about promotions and titles, Maya doesn't describe success the way most executives do. She describes it the way someone might describe a beautiful house that never quite felt like home. The irony, of course, is that Maya was probably never meant to be a suit in the first place. By her own admission, her younger self had exactly two ambitions: find a handsome husband and avoid waking up early. Somehow, she ended up running a media company. The disconnect became impossible to ignore during her years overseeing communications, a role that came with Maya's least favorite professional obligation: Press conferences.
The mention alone earns an immediate groan.
M: I hated press conferences.
R: Hated is a strong word.
M: I ha-ted them.
R: What did press conferences ever do to you?
M: They're fake.
No hesitation. No diplomacy. No executive-approved talking points. Just immediate conviction. And suddenly, The Pulse starts making a lot more sense. Because Maya doesn't hate communication. She despises performance. She dislikes conversations where everybody already knows the answers. She loathes carefully rehearsed moments pretending to be spontaneous. In other words, she hates almost everything a press conference is designed to be.
The Pulse, on the other hand?
M: It's just people talking.
She shrugs.
M: That's all I've ever wanted.
At the time, the answer feels almost too simple. Later, it becomes the answer to nearly everything. Most people assumed The Pulse had quietly run its course. Maya disagreed.
M: The Pulse wasn't broken.
AH: Wasn't it?
M: Ouch.
R: That felt personal.
The truth, according to Maya, is that the show's original concept was never the problem. The interviews worked. The guests worked. The audience worked. What stopped working was the spark. The spontaneity. The feeling that viewers were sitting in on a conversation instead of watching a carefully managed appearance.
M: Everybody is so worried about saying the right thing now.
AH: That's a bold statement from a CEO.
M: See? This is what I'm talking about.
R: She's been waiting years to say that.
M: I really have.
The Pulse wasn't broken. It just wasn't pulsing. And no one seems more aware of that than the woman who spent years feeling much the same way. Of course, reviving a podcast wasn't the only thing Maya had in mind.
Under her leadership, Sim.TV is undergoing a broader shift toward creator partnerships, artist development, behind-the-scenes storytelling, and projects designed to connect audiences with the people behind the headlines. In other words, less talking at people. More talking with them.
Or, as Maya puts it:
M: People are interesting.
A beat passes.
M: That's it. That's the strategy.
We suspect the boardroom version is slightly longer. Then again, maybe not.
Years ago, while Maya was climbing the corporate ladder, Ranveer was quietly shelving his dream of becoming an actor. Maya had other ideas. The couple made a deal. He would chase the dream. She would keep things stable. When promotions came, she'd take them. When opportunities appeared, she'd say yes. When leadership was needed, she'd stay. Eventually, she became CEO.
AH: That's a pretty significant sacrifice.
Maya immediately makes a face. Which is unfortunate because it suggests we've accidentally pinched a nerve.
M: I don't think of it that way.
AH: Really?
M: No.
She doesn't hesitate.
M: I made a choice.
AH: What's the difference?
M: A sacrifice sounds like I lost something.
That gets everyone's attention. Including Ranveer's.
M: I didn't. We had a plan. He'd get his shot. I'd keep things moving. Then we'd figure out what came next.
AH: Did you ever think that day wouldn't come?
For the first time all afternoon, Maya pauses.
M: Sometimes.
R: You never told me that.
M: Because it wasn't your problem.
R: Maya—
M: No, seriously.
She waves him off.
M: Watching him become happier wasn't the hard part. The hard part was realizing I wasn't.
For a moment, no one says anything. Not because the room becomes uncomfortable. Because somebody accidentally told the truth.
AH: So what changed?
Maya leans back in her chair.
M: I thought I was tired. Then I thought I needed a vacation. Then I thought maybe I was just bored.
Ranveer starts laughing.
M: Don't laugh.
R: You were bored.
M: I know that now.
AH: So what changed?
M: Watching him.
She points at Ranveer.
M: You're happy for them. You should be happy. And I was. But eventually you start wondering what happened to your thing.
The excitement. The fun. The part of her that once genuinely loved being in the middle of things. Then one day she stopped waiting. Not because she wanted a different life. Because she wanted to participate in her own again.
Today, The Pulse sits at the center of that decision. For years, Maya built platforms for other people. This may be the first time she's stepped onto one herself. And this time, she'll be hosting alongside Ranveer. When asked why he was her first choice as co-host, Maya looks genuinely confused by the question.
M: Have you seen him?
AH: That's not an answer.
M: It is if your eyes are open.
R: Maya...
M: What?
AH: So your official explanation is "look at him."
M: That's my professional opinion, yes.
R: Fortunately, there are other reasons.
M: There are?
R: I hope so.
M: ... He's good with people.
Honestly, it's a little obnoxious in the best possible way. Maya and Ranveer have the kind of chemistry that makes you suspect they've been having the same conversation for fifteen years and simply invited the rest of us to listen.
AH: Why do you think this will work?
Ranveer answers immediately.
R: Because she's happy.
The room goes quiet. Not dramatically. Just long enough for everyone to register that he means it. Maya rolls her eyes. But she's smiling. As our conversation wraps up, she's already pitching guest ideas. Ranveer is pitching different ones. She rejects most of them immediately. They're debating celebrities, finishing each other's thoughts, and making plans before the microphones have even cooled. For a woman who spent years managing other people's stories, Maya seems surprisingly excited to finally tell one of her own.
We eventually stand to leave. Neither of them appears particularly concerned. Maya is halfway through a new idea. Ranveer is halfway through explaining why it won't work. The interview may be over, but their conversation clearly isn't. We arrived expecting to interview a CEO. Instead, we spent an afternoon with a woman who forgot she was supposed to be selling us on a podcast. Which, oddly enough, may be the best endorsement for The Pulse yet. Because if this afternoon taught us anything, it's that Maya Singh doesn't need another title. She needs an audience. And for the first time in a very long time, it feels like she's found exactly the right one.
I spent the next few days on the phone. Contractors. Designers. Suppliers. More contractors. I wasn't exactly trying to push my baby girl out the door, but the sooner this house was ready, the sooner I could stop wondering whether I was going to run into my newly married daughter and son-in-law making questionable life choices in my kitchen. Once the plans were finalized and everyone was finally on the same page, the work began. Watching the renovation come together had been surprisingly fun. Watching Desi try to sneak over and see it had been even better. She threatened at least three times. I threatened her right back.
"No peeking."
"Daddy..."
"No."
"Daddyyyy."
"Desiree."
Apparently, getting married had not cured her of whining.
By the end of the week, the downstairs was finished. The upstairs bedroom still needed a little work, but the house was ready enough. Desi had gotten a late start that morning, so I told her to meet me there when she was ready. I wanted one last chance to look everything over before she arrived anyway. The moment I stepped inside, I stopped. The house felt familiar and unfamiliar all at once. I remembered the first time Dad brought me here. I thought it looked nice enough, but I didn't have any real feelings about it. It was his house. Then, somewhere between late-night conversations, vegetarian dinners, playful arguments, and ordinary Tuesdays, it quietly became home. I could still feel traces of that life lingering. But the new flooring, fresh paint, and empty rooms pulled me back to the present. This wasn't Dad's house anymore. It wasn't even my old house. It was Desi and Josh's first home. To my surprise, the thought settled over me easily.
Desi's sudden appearance and squeals of excitement startled me a little bit. I bet she ran all the way over here.
"It looks soooo good, Daddy!"
"I'm glad you like it."
"You really didn't have to go through all this trouble."
"Of course I did. This is a new chapter. You and Josh should make your own memories, not live in the shadows of someone else's."
She beamed at me. It felt good to make her happy once more.
"I love it. Thank you, Daddy."
I felt my face getting warm and eyes filling with pressure. This was not the time, so I turned away from her and stepped toward the kitchen. With the open floorplan, she didn't need a tour, but I needed a distraction.
"Okay, so, we've got new flooring, tile, and appliances..."
Desi laughed. She knew me too well.
"Figured I'd buy you something that wouldn't break if you looked at it wrong."
That house had been good to Dad and me, but the previous owner had filled it with the cheapest appliances and plumbing imaginable. Thankfully, Dad could fix almost anything.
"New cabinets will be here tomorrow," I continued. "And I finally had them finish the bathrooms."
Desi frowned. "Finally?"
"Yeah. The previous owner renovated every room except the bathrooms."
"Why?"
"Because it's very expensive. That's why we never did it. I always hated how dated they looked. I couldn't leave you with them."
"Good thing you're rich then, huh?"
"Heh...yeah. Comes in handy sometimes."
She laughed again and wandered off to inspect the downstairs bathroom. Watching her disappear into the hall, I found myself thinking about the conversation we'd had at Gilbert Gardens about options and enough. I didn't spend much time thinking about money, but every now and then I appreciated what those extra options allowed me to do, like give my daughter and her husband a safe, comfortable place to start their life together without worrying about the cost.
"It's so nice!" she called from the bathroom. "You really went all out."
"You're still my child," I called back. "I'll always lasso the moon for you."
"Aww, Daddy."
A few seconds later she reappeared, blinking rapidly. Interesting. Apparently I wasn't the only one experiencing suspicious eye pressure.
Then her attention shifted toward the staircase. "What's all this?"
I followed her gaze to the decorations beneath the stairs. Books. Knick-knacks. Figurines. Mama.
"Oh," I said quietly. "Your grandma bought all of that stuff."
Desi looked back at me.
"When we moved in, she helped decorate." I smiled faintly. "I got rid of everything else, but I couldn't toss these."
I shrugged, tearing my eyes away. "You can, if you want. It's your house."
Desi didn't even hesitate. "They stay."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "They belong here."
I smiled, though her answer didn't surprise me. Somehow, she'd always understood that family history lived in little things.
She noticed the couch next. "Wait. What's this still doing here?"
"Oh. That stays too."
"Really?"
"It's from us."
Her eyes widened. "For real?"
"Your mother insisted."
She immediately nodded. "Of course she did."
"Honestly, I lost that battle before it started."
She laughed.
Standing there, surrounded by memories of Dad, reminders of Mama, and plans for Desi's future, I realized something. People talked about generational wealth like it's only money. But standing there, I realized our family had been passing down something much more important for generations. Gammy invested in Mama. Mama invested in me and Less. And now I was investing in Logan and Desi. One day, if life went according to plan, she'd do the same for her children. The houses were just one way that love kept moving forward.
I cleared my throat. "Des."
She looked over.
"Can you promise me something?"
"Anything."
"No matter what happens, keep this house."
She looked surprised but nodded.
"And if you have children someday, leave it to them. Even if they don't want it."
She smiled softly. "I promise."
I nodded. "Good."
She studied me for a second. "This is about Grandpa, isn't it?"
"Partly." I looked around the house. "When the time comes, I want to tell you more and about why this place matters so much to me."
She smiled. "I'd like that."
"Cool." I clapped my hands together. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah." She took one last look around. "Josh is going to lose his mind."
"Good."
"Thank you, Daddy."
I thought she was going in for a hug. Instead, she held up her hand.
"Teamwork!"
I stared at her. "I'm sorry. What work have you done?"
She drew herself up proudly. "I'm management."
I laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm strategic."
"Sure." I headed for the door. "Come on, Mrs. Strategy Consultant. Let's go."
She laughed and followed me outside.
As we walked toward home, I remembered the Winterfest trip to Mt. Komorebi right after her child birthday. I'd asked her to help me with breakfast. She did absolutely nothing except keep me company. But when Sophia walked into the kitchen, Desi proudly announced, "Look, Mommy! I made breakfast!" Even now, as much as I loved the woman she was becoming, I appreciated those little reminders that she wasn't an entirely new person. She was still the same kid who'd been taking credit for my work her entire life. And honestly? I wouldn't have her any other way.
Out of nowhere, something I was supposed to revisit years ago popped back into my head.
"I don't know if you remember this, but we were supposed to have a conversation about being rich versus being comfortable."
Desi's eyes widened. "Oh yeah!"
"You asked me if we were rich before we won the lottery."
She laughed. "Only took you four years."
"Listen. I've been busy."
"Mmm hmm."
I smiled. "When you asked me that question, I don't think you were actually asking if we were rich."
Desi looked over at me. "What was I asking then?"
I thought about it for a moment. "I think you were trying to understand why our life looked different than other people's."
She nodded slowly. "Hmm ... Yeah, I think you're right."
"I grew up in two very different worlds. Life with my mom was comfortable. Nice house. Nice neighborhood. If I needed something, she usually found a way to make it happen. But she also made sure I understood where those things came from. We had chores. Responsibilities. Gratitude wasn't optional."
Desi giggled.
"Then I'd go to my dad's house."
She immediately shook her head. "No TV."
I nodded. "No TV."
"That still blows my mind."
"Mine too. But here's the thing. My mom wasn't rich. And my dad wasn't a failure because he struggled."
My smile faded slightly as an old memory surfaced. "There was a period where those differences bothered him. One day he made a comment about a birthday gift Mama gave Less. It wasn't really about the gift. Looking back, I think he felt embarrassed. Maybe even inadequate because he wasn't able to provide the same things for us."
I shrugged. "Whatever the reason, it created confusion where there hadn't been any before."
"How so?"
"I never thought much about money before then. Mom's house had all the stuff and dad's didn't. That's just how it was." I kicked a pebble off the path. "But after that, it felt like I was supposed to have an opinion about it."
Desi was quiet. But finally, she said, "That sounds exhausting."
"It was. And completely unnecessary." I glanced over at her. "There's no glory in struggle. And there's no shame in having enough. Whatever 'enough' is, it's different for everyone."
I pointed toward the houses surrounding the lake. "People spend so much time chasing more that they never stop to ask whether they already have what they need."
I peeked at Desi. A few years ago, she might've rolled her eyes at a speech like this. Now she was actually listening. And she seemed to agree with me. Somewhere along the way, my little girl had become a reasonable adult.
Desi followed my gaze. "Yeah. Honestly, you guys were kinda weird about the lottery."
"Weird?"
"Most people win a million dollars and immediately lose their minds."
I laughed. "Very true." I shrugged. "What can I say? We already liked our life."
That answer seemed to surprise her.
"I mean, sure. We upgraded a few things. Took some nice vacations. Made sure everybody was taken care of. But I already had everything I wanted. You. Your mom. Our house."
"Three houses," she corrected.
I chuckled. "One doesn't count."
"It absolutely counts."
"Fine. Three houses."
Desi looked entirely too pleased with herself. I shook my head yet again.
"My point is, what exactly was I supposed to change? Move to Del Sol Valley and start hanging out with celebrities?"
Desi snorted. "I'd pay to watch that."
"Could you imagine? The truth is, I've lived with plenty, and I've lived with very little. Somewhere along the way, I figured out what 'enough' looked like for me."
Standing there beside her, I was starting to realize Desi had figured it out too.
"I think that's what I wanted to tell you all those years ago." I looked out across the lake again. "Being comfortable means your needs are met and a bad month doesn't become a crisis. Rich means you have options most people don't. But neither one means you'll automatically be happy. That's something you have to figure out before the money shows up."
Desi slowed her pace for a moment and considered my words. "So you were like this even before the money tree?"
I smiled. "Exactly. All I ever wanted was your mom and house #1 so we could have you." I shrugged. "That was my definition of enough. What more could I want?"
We started walking again. Then Desi flashed another cheeky grin.
"Two more houses."
I laughed. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
I chuckled. "I thought we were talking about whatever you wanted."
"We are."
I waited.
"Right now, I want to talk about your questions."
I snorted. "You really are your mother's daughter."
She grinned. "Persistent?"
"If that's what you want to call it."
Desi laughed.
"Fine," I conceded. "First question. How do you feel now that it's done? Do you feel ready for all of this?"
"I think so," she said with little hesitation. "I mean, I know we’ll have to figure stuff out, but yeah. I’m ready."
"Good. So, what's next? What do you want your life to look like?"
She thought about it for a moment. "We're kinda making it up as we go."
"Fair."
"I just know I want Josh in everything."
I smiled, remembering exactly what that felt like. My yoga career had just ramped up, and I had decided to conquer my fears by getting serious with Sophia. I had no clue what was around the bend but knew for certain that as long as she was with me, I could face anything. That younger version of me—the one who never wanted to leave her side—was thrilled for Desi. But he wasn’t a father yet.
We walked a little farther before I asked my next question. "Okay. Practical Dad question."
Desi groaned. "That sounds less fun already."
"You know I have to."
"What is it?" she asked carefully.
"Where are you planning to live?"
She blinked. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
"We haven't really talked about that yet."
I nodded. "I told you before you're welcome to stay with us as long as you need to."
She smiled. "I know."
"I meant that when I said it. I love having you around." I hesitated. "But I also think married people should have their own house."
Desi gasped and dramatically pressed a hand to her chest. I immediately regretted everything.
"Desi ... Please don't."
"That's veeeeery interesting coming from you."
The second the word interesting left her mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.
"So after years of being sent to bed early for reasons that became increasingly obvious as I got older..."
I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for impact.
"...I'm suddenly the problem?" she asked.
"That's not what I said."
"It's exactly what you said."
"Is not."
"Is too!"
I rubbed a hand over my face. "Desi, I love you."
"I love you too."
"But I also think everyone involved would benefit from separate addresses."
She burst out laughing. Then she pointed at me like a lawyer who had just won her case.
"There's the real reason," she said.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, quickening my pace.
"Liar," she called after me.
I stopped long enough for her to catch up. "Prove it."
She flashed a grin that looked entirely too much like her mother's. "I don't have to."
She certainly did not. I raised a smart kid, and somehow she'd decided to use her powers for evil. The audacity.
We kept walking, both of us still smiling, and I felt something loosen that had been tight since yesterday morning. Not all the way. But enough. The conversation had started with housing, but once the laughter settled, my mind went right back there. They used my dad's house for... an event I had no intention of revisiting in greater detail. I still wondered why that place mattered to her. Was it because of my dad? The blue eyes connection? Family history? I considered asking. Then I immediately imagined accidentally steering us back into a conversation about newly liberated young adults that I had absolutely no desire to participate in. Nope. Some mysteries were better left unsolved. I tried a different approach.
I cleared my throat. "So..." I said casually. "You like that house?"
Desi looked surprised by the question. "Grandpa's house?"
"Yeah."
"I do. It's really cute."
Despite all the bravado from last night about her being grown and needing to figure it out, I caved. Let's face it. There wasn't much I wouldn't do for this girl. Besides, Dad had left us that house for exactly this reason, and Alessia didn't want it. The house had always been meant to stay in the family.
"You can have it if you want," I said.
Desi stopped walking. "What?"
"The house. It's yours."
"Daddy..."
"You don't have to take it. I know it's smaller than what you're used to."
"It's fine, Daddy. You know I don't care about stuff like that."
I did know. And honestly, hearing her say it made me absurdly proud. Not because I doubted her but because every parent spends a little bit of time wondering whether the lessons actually stuck. Apparently they had.
"There's one condition, though."
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
"I'm taking all that furniture out."
"What?"
"You and Josh need to furnish it yourselves."
"But why? It's already set up."
"Because it's your house now."
"But, Daddyyyy..." she whined.
"Nope. You two are grown. You're starting a new life together. You should make the place your own."
I didn't sleep much. And the little I did get didn't help at all. Mostly, I lay there staring at the ceiling while my brain replayed the same conversation over and over. What are you really upset about? I thought I knew the answer: I wanted to walk my daughter down the aisle. Simple. Reasonable, even. But the more I sat with it, the less convincing it became. Lots of fathers never get that opportunity. Sometimes life has other plans. Other times, relationships fracture beyond repair. Some dads simply aren't around. My own father never got the chance. And while I couldn't speak for what he felt privately, I knew one thing for certain. He never punched a bag until his hands hurt because of it. So what was this really about?
Naturally, my brain decided this was an excellent opportunity to revisit every difficult thing I'd ever experienced. My parents' divorce stole the peace from my childhood and confidence from young adulthood. Then there were the fertility struggles Sophia and I fought through. Losing both my parents in the same week sucked. Let’s not even talk about the abduction. Every time peace found its way back into my life, something came around the bend to snatch it away again. I was exhausted and longed for emotional stability. But Desi getting married wasn't one of those things. I knew that logically. My daughter falling in love with a good man and building a life with him wasn't a tragedy. But maybe some small, stubborn part of me had mistaken change for another loss. And maybe I needed to remember they weren't the same thing.
By the time I finally dragged myself out of bed, I still wasn't completely at peace with everything. But I felt steadier than I had yesterday. Progress is progress, and I'll take it.
Desi and Josh were up bright and early, so I guessed they hadn't spent the night with his parents after all. Part of me wondered if they had taken the news any better than I had. I was still upset with those eager lovebirds, but Sophia had been right. This was my daughter's dream, and she was probably feeling on top of the world right now. Plus, I'd promised to support her decision. It was probably time I started acting like it.
I found her in the kitchen. "Take a ride with me."
She looked surprised, but smiled immediately. "Okay."
Neither of us said much on the way to Gilbert Gardens, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was with Desi.
I parked near the splash park across from Dub’s place, and she glanced around curiously. "Why here?"
I couldn't help but smile. "Because you grew up here."
Her expression softened as we stepped onto the familiar walking path. The splash park was one of the few neighborhood staples that hadn't changed. Whenever I came back to Gilbert Gardens, I could always count on it and the Arboretum being exactly where I left them.
"I remember the first time we took you to the splash park," I said.
"When was that?"
"Oh ... You were teeny tiny then. You enjoyed it just as much back then as you do now."
She grinned. "Good to know I've been consistent."
I smiled to myself, thinking back to a few weeks ago when we were there last. A different season of life. A different little person running headfirst into chaos. Same joy.
Further down the path, I pointed toward a familiar stretch of sidewalk in front of our old house. "Remember how you refused to ride your bike?"
Desi frowned. "I rode my bike."
"You were sitting on it and walking at the same time."
"And yet I got where I was going."
"That's not the point."
She shrugged. "It still worked."
I shook my head. Being technically correct was one of her most annoying qualities.
Seeing our old house again brought back so many fond memories.
"You know what I miss?" I asked.
"What?"
"Living next door to Less."
She got doe-eyed. "Aww, me too. The triplets were so chaotic."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Were?"
"Okay..." She grinned. "They still are."
I smiled. "You guys were like a little posse. If I found one of you, I knew the others couldn't be far away."
It had been loud, messy, constant, and exhausting at times, yet somehow some of my favorite years. That's another cruel thing about parenthood. Nobody tells you which moments are the important ones. They don't announce themselves, and they hide inside ordinary days like movie nights, school projects, and backyard barbecues. Then one day your daughter gets married, and suddenly your brain decides watching her sit on a bike and walk down a sidewalk was somehow sacred.
I glanced over at Desi as she walked beside me. She looked happy. Comfortable. Certain. Exactly like someone who had just married the love of her life should be. Maybe that's why all of this had hit me so hard. I wasn't losing my daughter. I was watching her become exactly who we'd raised her to be.
Eventually, I took a breath. "I'm still very much upset with you."
Her smile faded.
"If you and Josh ever have children, you'll understand exactly why and what you took from us."
I let the words settle between us.
"But I didn't bring you out here to yell at you."
"What did you bring me out here for?" she asked softly.
"To talk."
"About what?"
"Anything you want." I glanced over at her. "I mean, I have a few questions, but they can wait."
She looked puzzled.
"We're probably not going to hang out like this much anymore," I said.
The surprise on her face caught me off guard. Not because she disagreed. It probably hadn't occurred to her. And honestly, why would it? She was busy following her heart and building a future. I was the one trying to make peace with the past.
"Daddy..."
"It's okay," I reassured her. "Things change. They already have."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she bumped my shoulder lightly.
"So what are your questions?"
I smiled. "We'll get there."
And for the first time since she'd announced she was married, I felt like we actually would.
For the remaining four hours, Anissa soaked up sun, Melanick enjoyed water fun, and Loren and Noah enjoyed each other. No clue what Jorden got up to lol. Loren and Noah win the prize for cutest couple. They REALLY love each other and enjoy spending time together. They were autonomous for most of the trip, and I kept finding them everywhere Melanick went somewhere yesterday. For all you strict Watchers out there, let your sims be autonomous sometimes. You might be in for a real treat.
