Mason looks up. “Dad doesn’t do sparkly.”
“Dad might start,” I tease, ruffling his hair. “If Penny says so.”
Briar laughs softly. “Careful. She’ll hold you to that.”
I glance up at her.
Her smile softens, eyes warm, full, knowing.
It still floors me that this woman picked me. Trusted me. Built a life with me. Gave me two kids who crash through the firehouse like they own the place.
And then?—
“Alright, alright, back off, hooligans,” a familiar voice calls.
My mother strides into the bay, coat zipped up against the evening chill, hair pulled into a messy bun. She’s got the same steel in her spine she had when she raised four kids on her own—only softer now, warmed by years of grandchildren calling her “Mimi.”
She spreads her arms wide. “Give your Mimi a hug before you terrorize her house.”
Penny screams like she’s being launched from a cannon and hurls herself into my mom’s arms.
Mason follows but tries to play it cool, which fools exactly no one.
Junie wraps herself around Mimi’s legs.
My mom kisses their cheeks, smushes their hair, and says in a dramatic voice, “Goodness gracious, you three have grown even taller since breakfast.”
“Mimi,” Mason groans, “you saw us two hours ago.”
“Two hours is long enough to miss you,” she says, squeezing him.
I stand and kiss her cheek. “Thanks for babysitting.”
“You kidding?” Mom grins. “These three are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Besides you, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
Penny tugs her sleeve. “We gonna make cookies?”
“Oh yes,” Mom says. “Chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and the ones you like with the sprinkles.”
Penny gasps like she’s heard the secrets of the universe. “Sprinkles!”
Mason leans in. “And can we watch the firefighter movie again?”
Mom opens her mouth to answer, but Mason cuts in quickly:
“The one where the firefighter rescues everyone and gets the girl.”
Mom winks at me. “I see. Someone has a hero they’re modeling after.”
Mason shrugs but can’t hide the smile that says he knows exactly who that hero is.
I fight the emotion tightening my throat. Just last month the adoption paperwork was finalized. Junie is officially my daughter. Briar’s ex gave us trouble at first, but when two years go by and you haven’t seen or called your daughter once—signing over parental rights seems like only a formality. Good riddance to him. I pat Junie’s head and she beams up at me. She’s still the happiest girl I’ve ever met, just like her momma.
My mom kisses me once more. “Go. Have your date night. Your father would be so damn proud of you. I wish he was still here to see these three.”
The words hit harder than she knows. A heart attack took him last year, went to bed one night and didn’t wake up the next morning. I swipe at a tear, and nod, kiss the kids, and watch them pile into her SUV. As the taillights disappear down the snowy road, I let out a breath.
