I gently lifted Shiloh from Stormi’s arms, cradling his little sleeping body, then reached for her hand. “Come on, ma.”
Stormi laced her fingers with mine as we headed toward the stairs, S3 bouncing ahead of us like he was starving and hadn’t eaten in days.
“You hungry, ma?” I asked, glancing back at her over my shoulder.
“I can eat,” she said with a small smile, her eyes never leaving Shiloh’s peaceful face.
The way she looked at him… man. I couldn’t even tell who was more in love, her or Shiloh. Honestly, I’d stopped competing. With both in my life, I was already winning. Our family was growing, and for the first time shit felt like it was getting back on track.
The moment we hit the bottom step, the front door swung open. Rich walked in like macho man struggling with a mountain of grocery bags, arms stretched out like he was performing some kind of balancing act.
“You got it?” I called out, handing Shiloh back to Stormi so I could help.
“Naw, you good. This everything,” he said through a laugh, wobbling but refusing to drop a single bag. “I refuse to make two trips.”
Stormi snickered behind me, shifting Shiloh in her arms. S3 raced toward the kitchen yelling, “Grandma! I hungry!”
Stormi shook her head, amused. “He definitely yours.”
“Don’t start,” I teased, brushing a hand over her waist before heading toward Rich.
The morning felt warm, full, loud, a little chaotic but it was ours. And damn… I loved every second of it.
Jo came over immediately, barely letting Rich set the bags down before she started unloading everything. Fridge door swinging open, pantry shelves filling up like clockwork.
“Ready to eat?” my mom asked S3 the second he ran up to her.
“Jo, can we eat outside by the pool like last time?” S3 begged, tugging on her hand with all his strength.
Jo laughed. “Boy, you don’t ever get tired of swimming?”
“Pool!” he insisted, already pulling her toward the patio doors.
She grabbed two plates off the counter and a couple of juice boxes, shaking her head as she followed him outside. “Alright, come on, Mr. Bossy.”
Stormi chuckled softly.
My mom turned toward her next. “Everybody’s food is ready. I’ll take Mr. Mans here and put him in his crib so you can eat in peace.”
Stormi hesitated for half a breath, she always missed him even when she needed a break, but she nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
Mama gathered Shiloh gently, adjusting his little head on her shoulder before carrying him out of the kitchen like she’d been rocking babies since the beginning of time.
I swear… that boy was in a different pair of arms every minute. And the crazy part is he loved it.
I set Stormi’s plate at the table, then mine right beside hers. “Sit down, ma,” I said softly, pulling her chair out. Once she sat, I poured both glasses of orange juice, sliding hers in front of her before taking my seat.
Rich grabbed his plate, rubbing his hands together dramatically. “Man, I’m starving.”
“Same,” I muttered.
That was the last thing anyone said. The three of us dove into our breakfast like it was a competition. Heads down, forks working overtime, no conversation, not even a glance up. Just straight quiet appreciation for mama’s cooking and the kind of hunger that comes after a long night with a newborn.
Stormi broke the silence first, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. “Lord… this so good.”
I smirked. “Mama don’t miss.”
Rich pointed his fork without looking up. “Ain’t a single bad plate ever come outta that kitchen.”
