"I don't know. It's years away, and it's huge, and—"
"Daisy." His voice drops into that tone—the one that means stop deflecting and answer the question. "What do you want?"
I close my eyes. Take a breath. Think about what I actually want, not what seems reasonable or what everyone else might need. "I want it. I want to build something that's ours. Want to keep helping animals without destroying myself in the process. Want to prove that I can run something important and still be... me."
"Then we start planning." No hesitation. Complete certainty. "I'll start looking at financing options, business models. We've got time to do this right."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." I can hear the smile in his voice. "You want it, we make it happen. That's what Daddies do."
My chest feels warm and full. "I love you."
"Love you too, baby girl. Now eat your lunch. I packed you extra protein, and I know you've been so busy you probably forgot."
I look at my desk—sure enough, there's the insulated lunch box I didn't notice before, sitting right where he must have placed it this morning when I was checking on the overnight boarders. Inside: turkey and avocado sandwich on whole grain, apple slices, string cheese, trail mix, and a note written on the back of a receipt.
So proud of you. Eat everything. Check in by 2. - Daddy
I eat everything, texting him a photo of the empty containers at 1:47 PM.
Rex: Good girl. Knew you could do it.
The praise makes me glow for the rest of the afternoon. And tonight, I'm going to celebrate this possibility properly.
That night, the poker crew comes over for dinner. It's become a monthly tradition—rotating houses, partners included, more about the food and conversation than the actual card game.
John and Bunny arrive first, her carrying a container of fresh cookies that makes the whole entryway smell like vanilla and chocolate, him carrying her purse and both their coats because she claims "Daddies carry things."
"These are the maple walnut ones you like," Bunny says, pressing the container into my hands. "Made them this afternoon."
Marshall and Charlotte arrive next, her immediately beelining for the cookies. "Are those the maple ones? Bunny, you're an angel."
"Mason won't let me have sugar after eight PM anymore," she mock-complains.
"Because you get wired and can't sleep," Marshall says dryly, but there's affection in it. "Then you're exhausted the next day and try to work through lunch."
"One cookie won't hurt," Charlotte argues, already reaching for one.
Marshall intercepts her hand, redirects it to the veggie tray. "One cookie after dinner. If you eat real food first."
She pouts but accepts the carrot stick.
Garrett and Lily are last, her practically bouncing through the door in head-to-toe pink yoga gear that matches her personality perfectly. He's moving better than I've seen in years—no more of that careful, pained gait he had when they first met.
"Sorry we're late," Lily chirps. "We were finishing couples' yoga and lost track of time."
"You mean you were torturing me with warrior pose for twenty minutes," Garrett corrects, but his hand is gentle on her back, affectionate.
"It's good for your core," she sing-songs, completely unrepentant.
We settle in the living room with drinks—wine for most, craft beer for the men. Thor immediately makes his rounds, visiting each person for the mandatory head scratches and treats he knows they'll sneak him despite Rex's rules about feeding the dog people food.
"He's gained weight," Marshall observes as Thor plants himself in front of him with big, pleading eyes.
"Because you all spoil him," Rex says without heat.
"He's very convincing," Bunny defends, already slipping Thor a piece of cheese.
