And just then, Olivia misses the edge of the patio and goes down hard in the grass, her wails ringing out around us.
“And Screaming Sunflower,” Ryder mutters, already on the move to get her up.
He lifts her easily, twisting her around in his arms and checking for any blood. When he sees she’s fine, he blows a quick raspberry into her stomach—a surefire way to get her giggling.
When the birthday girl is all smiles again, Gam reaches for her. “Give me my great-grandbaby!” she says, reaching out for her as Ryder passes her by. She holds her on her lap for a few seconds, playing with her and encouraging a few more giggles before setting her free again.
And Ryder takes his seat next to me as Olivia is off like a rocket yet again, this time to tug on her brother’s leg. He takes a brief break from his game to give her a hug and a pat on the head, and after a few moments, tells her very seriously that he’ll need to return to his game now because he doesn’t want to be rude and draw out Izzy’s loss.
I hide my face in Ryder’s arm to keep my laughter at bay as Izzy hangs her head in defeat. “That’s very kind of you, Benji, to at least give me a quick death.”
Ryder shakes his head, leaning back and throwing an arm along the back of my seat. “That kid is going to be something.”
I nod. “I don’t know what. Butsomething, definitely.”
The day passes in a blur of friends and family. Food and snacks and drinks. Games and activities for the kids that stop by. Hugs and kisses and laughter.
Everything I ever could have hoped for.
After the last attendees shuffle off toward their cars, long after the kids are sound asleep, Ryder and I retire to the family room overlooking the sunflower fields and collapse into the couch. There’s plenty to clean up, and too many thank yous to even think about tonight.
But we take a moment to sit and stare at everything we have. Everything we created—baby monitors included—and relax into each other, that same breath releasing from my chest as the very first night he told me he loved me.
“I take it back,” he says, his voice quiet in the sleeping house. “I think this one is my favorite.”
I snort, snuggling in close because we’ve had this conversation before and I know just where it’s going. That this is one of those moments he tells me he loves me again without ever having to say the words. “You say that every other week.”
He shrugs. “I don’t care,” he says, leaving a kiss on my head and holding me tight. “This is my favorite midnight.”
“It’s not midnight,” I say, turning my face up toward him so I can leave a kiss on his jaw in that place that always gives him the warm fuzzies.
He lets out a long sigh, his cheek resting on the top of my head. “You know my favorite midnight is whenever I’m with you.”
