Wylder takes Willow with ease. He’s had waymore life experience with kids than me. I still get nervous sometimes with Nova. She’s so tiny and breakable. No matter how many times Iris tells me she’s not as fragile as she looks, I never believe her.
“Come here,” Iris says to me, tipping her chin toward the empty spot on her other side. “Our girl misses you.”
The babies were born four months apart, but Willow looks way older than Nova, who’s just over the one-month mark. In that short amount of time, she’s already grown so much that it isn’t easy to remember she was ever smaller.
“There’s Daddy’s girl,” I say, scooping Nova out of Iris’s arms carefully, supporting her head in my palm. I place her on my chest, cheek against my shirt, head pushed up against my beard. She loves this. I love this. My heart hurts for the day she’ll grow and no longer wants to be snuggled in my arms. The best part of my day is coming home to my girls and snuggling on the couch while the cold wind howls outside our place.
The front door opens, and Dad and Mom walk in, carrying two trays of food. “Lasagna is here,” Mom calls out as Dad sets down the first tray before he takes the other from her hands. “It should be enough to freeze and have a few meals this month.”
Mom’s been cooking up a storm for us since we had the baby. She’s been making double so Tate andWylder can have some too, but their food doesn’t last as long since they’re feeding four mouths.
“Gram is bringing the eggplant.”
“Ooh,” Iris whispers, rubbing her belly. “She loves me.”
“She loves you and Tate the most,” I tell her. “You two gave her great-grandbabies.”
Iris smiles at the affirmation, but I didn’t need to tell her because my grandma does every chance she gets.
“Anyone else coming?” I ask.
“Mason’s covering the bar. Nino’s nino’ing. And everyone else is busy. Just us and my parents,” Dad says, taking Mom’s coat from her before she has a chance to scurry off into the kitchen with the lasagna.
Thank God.
I love my family, but they’ve been spending every moment they can with us and Tate’s family. The shiny new baby hasn’t quite worn off for them yet, but I think we’re getting close to that point…thankfully.
“Be back,” Iris says, taking off toward the kitchen.
“Tilly,” Hazel screeches, barreling down the stairs because she knows cupcakes are here too.
“I’ll grab them out of the car,” Dad says to Mom.
“Thanks,” she tells him as Hazel runs into Mom’s arms and squeezes her tightly.
“I’ve missed you,” Hazel says quickly.
“Have you been a good girl? Done all yourhomework?” Mom asks her as Hazel finally releases her.
“All of it. Straight A’s.” Hazel twists, unable to stand still when there’s anything sweet involved. “Excellent behavior too. Ask Dad.”
Tilly glances at Wylder, who nods. Sucker. The kid could probably burn the house down, and he’d say she’s an angel. Parents may not have favorites, but no one can tell me Hazel isn’t his. I’m sure there was a time when Maddy was his favorite, but I think that went out the window when puberty hit.
“Hey,” Maddy says as soon as she gets to the bottom of the steps, looking every bit the disinterested teenager.
I remember those years being filled with so many hormones I wasn’t sure what was up and where was down. Everything was so crazy, and my brain had to work double hard not to think about sex.
Dad walks in with two packages instead of the usual one. “I got them both.”
“Perfect timing. I brought you your usual box,” Mom says to Hazel, taking the top box from the stack in my dad’s hands. “And for you—” she turns to Maddy “—I made sure to grab your favorite too.”
Maddy’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”
Mom nods. “A girl needs her sweets.”
“If only it made her sweet too,” Wylder grumbles on the other end of the couch, and somehow, I hold in the bark of laughter that was building in my throat.
“You’re my favorite person,” Maddy says to Mom before she turns her gaze on Wylder with a smile.
