“Thanks.” She smiles up at me, and I lean down to peck her lips before stretching out on the floor.
My knee complains at the bend, so I flatten my leg along the carpet while Charlotte climbs up my body to kiss my cheek, then looks over my shoulder and greets her sister.
“Hi, Paris.” She says it softly, brushing her little fingers down Paris’s cheek.
“Good girl. Nice and gentle,” Satch encourages her while unclipping her bra and getting ready to nurse.
Charlotte watches in fascination as Paris latches on, then bobs back down to sit on my lap.
“Tea, Daddy?”
“Only if it’s been made by Chef Charlotte.”
She giggles and bounces off my thigh to jump around her setup and be the perfect hostess.
She chatters away at me, and I lean back against the couch, resting my arm on Satch’s knee while I watch our precious girl.
Man, she’s so happy and content. So secure. So safe.
And it’s all because of this amazing woman behind me. She’s the one who’s kept this massive ship running. I’ve spent weeks away at games, hours away at training, days away in the hospital, and things have just kept churning.
The kids look after one another—because Satch taught them how.
They’re organized and studious—because Satch has led the way.
They’re all acing school and acting like little geniuses—Charlotte speaks so well for a three-year-old—and it’s because Satch has taken the time to work with each of them.
I’d be so fucking lost without this woman. We all would.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smile at my wife, and her lips curl up at the corners even though she’s not looking at me. I love that she can sense my gaze.
She turns to wink at me, and I lightly tickle her knee before having to take a tiny teacup from Charlotte.
“Drink up, Daddy. It’s good for you.”
“Okay, sunflower. Let’s have a taste.” I sip the concoction and will myself not to gag as the watery, sweet liquid hits the back of my throat. “Mmmmm. Delicious.”
Charlotte beams, her cheeks tinging pink as she reaches for the teapot. “Want more?”
“Absolutely.” I hold the cup out while Satch gives my shoulder a squeeze. She’s sympathizing with my plight… because she’s spent the last half hour drinking this stuff while I was lamenting my lost career.
Shit. I should have been down here with them, not upstairs moping.
Satch has sacrificed so much for me.
We didn’t mean to get pregnant in her last year of college, and she was in Mommy mode before she even graduated. Thankfully, she got through those final exams and aced everything the way I knew she would. But then it was all about raising Dominic, and then Jane and Sebastian and Charlotte… and now Paris too.
She never got the chance to become a teacher. I mean, she teaches our kids about everyday life all the time. But it’s not the same. She had big dreams of getting into a classroom, having a creative space of her own, inspiring future generations.
She’s such a good teacher. I wouldn’t have graduated if it wasn’t for her.
Damn, when it’s gonna be her turn?
As Charlotte watches me down more of this swill, her excited face too cute for words, I’m struck by an idea.
It’s kind of terrifying, but also thrilling.
What if we swapped places?
