Carlie laughs and leans in conspiratorially. “Sounds like a Sloan already.”
Aiden shoots her a look from across the table. “Hey.”
“I said what I said,” she replies, unfazed.
He flings a used napkin at her head without further comment which she promptly tosses back.
Mason, powdered sugar dusting his fingers and cheeks, leans over to peer at my stomach again. “Baby Millie,” he says firmly, as if delivering instructions. “You gotta hurry up a little. I wanna show you my room.”
I smile and press my hand gently over his. “She’s working on her own schedule.”
“That’s okay,” he says magnanimously. “For now.”
Aiden catches my eye over the table, his expression soft and full in a way that makes my chest warm. He mouths, I love you, exaggerated enough that Mason notices.
“Are you guys doing the mushy stuff again?” Mason groans dramatically. “Gross.”
Carlie laughs so hard she has to wipe at her eyes. “Buddy, you have no idea how much worse it gets.”
This life is everything I never knew I wanted, and I can’t believe I get to have it. It’s loud. Messy. This is not the quiet, picture-perfect morning I once thought happiness was supposed to look like.
It’s so much better.
After the sugar rush peaks and collapses into contented quiet, the house rearranges itself around comfort. We make for the living room. Carlie refuses to leave, claiming she has “a constitutional right” to linger when donuts are involved, and migrates to the couch with the confidence of someone who has never questioned her welcome.
Mason follows immediately, dragging a blanket behind him like a cape, and wedges himself into the space between Aiden and me with practiced precision. He settles there with a sigh, one hand drifting automatically to my belly, his attention split between the television and the hope of feeling another kick.
Aiden’s arm slides around my shoulders, warm and steady, his thumb tracing an idle line along my upper arm. I lean into him without thinking, my head finding its place against his shoulder like it always does now. The ease of it still surprises me sometimes, the way our bodies seem to understand the shape of each other without instruction.
“There,” I murmur after a moment, when the familiar movement stirs again.
Mason freezes, his eyes going wide as he concentrates. “She kicked!” he whispers.
Carlie’s phone appears instantly. She angles it just right, snapping a picture before any of us can protest. “This one’s going on the Christmas card. Frame it. Laminate it. Whatever you need to do.”
I laugh, but when she turns the screen toward me, the sound catches in my throat.
The photo isn’t perfect. Mason’s hair is a mess, Aiden’s T-shirt is wrinkled, and I’m slouched into the couch with my feet tucked awkwardly under a pillow. I’ve even got a hint of a double chin. But Aiden’s arm is around me, Mason is grinning between us, and my hand rests protectively over my belly like it’s always belonged there.
This is us.
I look around the living room—the scattered toys, the stack of mail on the side table, the faint smell of coffee still lingering in the air—and feel a wave of gratitude so strong it makes my chest ache. Six years ago, I thought I’d lost my chance at happiness entirely. I thought love was something you either got right the first time or paid for forever after.
I didn’t know then that it could circle back. That it could grow sturdier with time. That it could survive mistakes and distance and fire.
Aiden presses a kiss to my temple, gentle and unassuming. “No regrets?” he asks quietly, his voice just for me.
“I could have arched my back a little for that picture and maybe I wouldn’t look so tired, but?—”
He chuckles. “I meant…” He glances around the room, before he turns the wedding ring on my finger. “This. Us. All of it.”
I turn my head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Only that we wasted six years. Not wasted, not really. I think we both learned a lot in that time.” I sigh contentedly. “But we have forever now.”
Mason snorts. “Forever’s a really long time.”
“Yes, it is,” Aiden agrees.
Mason considers this deeply, his brow furrowing. “Does that mean I have to share my room with the baby forever?”
