A couple’s passing by—thirty somethings in matching Columbia hoodies, and a dog that looks better groomed than I am. I flag them down with a sheepish grin and my most non-threatening Dad Voice. “Hey, sorry to interrupt—mind snapping one for us?”
The woman smiles, reaching for the plastic camera, but then she pauses, tapping the bulky Polaroid slung around her neck. “You want one from this instead? I’ve got plenty of film, and the light is actually perfect right now.”
Emma’s eyes go wide. “For real?”
The woman laughs. “For real. It’s magic—you get to watch it appear.”
I scoop Emma up, settling her on my hip. She’s clutching Barnaby, her stuffed rabbit—the one with the one-eyed stare and the matted fur that’s survived every tantrum since birth. I tuck her between me and Annie, pulling them both in close.
“Okay, on three,” the woman says, peering through the viewfinder. “One, two, three…cheese!”
We beam, full-wattage smiles that ache a little but feel earned, and the camera whirs to life.
“One more?” she offers.
“Yes!” Emma yelps before we can blink, cracking us both up.
“Alright—one, two, three—”
I dip in, pressing a kiss to Emma’s cheek; Annie mirrors me on the flip side, our faces mashing hers in a goofy sandwich. She erupts in this belly laugh, wriggling with delight.
“Adorable,” the woman says, passing over the squares. “You’ve got a beautiful family there.”
“Thank you,” I reply, the words sticking a bit—not correcting her, because hell, it doesn’t feel wrong.
“Let me see! Let me see!” Emma demands, twisting in my arms.
We huddle together as the colors begin to bleed through the gray. It’s like watching a memory form in real-time. The first one is classic—all of us smiling, the trees a hazy, nostalgic green. But the second one…that’s the one. Emma’s face is squeezed into a joyful grimace, her nose scrunched, Barnaby’s ears flopping. Annie and I are just blurred silhouettes of affection on either side of her. The colors are warm and slightly overexposed, giving it the feel of something that happened thirty years ago, something timeless.
Emma grabs the pictures, holding them to her chest. “These are staying on the fridge forever and ever.”
“Forever’s ambitious,” I tease. “What if we run out of magnets?”
“Don’t care. Forever times infinity.”
Without overthinking it, I reach for Annie’s hand—our fingers slotting together like they’ve done it a hundred times—and we keep walking, the path winding toward Sal’s, the salty scent already teasing the air.
Emma’s gaze drops, locking on our hands, her mouth forming a little O. “Daddy…are you and Annie boyfriend-girlfriend now?”
I arch a brow. “How do you know what a boyfriend is?”
She folds her arms and looks up at me as if to sayplease, Dad.“I’ve had boyfriends, Daddy. Like Will from school.”
“What?” I say, stopping and looking down at her. “Emma! You’re not allowed to have a boyfriend. No boyfriends. Not for a long time. Got it?”
“How long?” she pouts.
“Sixty years.”
“Is that a long time?”
I smirk. “A very long time.”
Emma’s eyes move to our hands again. “Well…are you?”
“We’re not quite there yet,” I say, dropping into a crouch until I’m eye-level with her. I beckon her closer with a finger, like I’m about to spill big secrets, and she leans in, her breath warm against my ear, eyes wide.
“But I really want her to be,” I whisper, the words feeling surprisingly light now that they’re out of my head. “One day. Is that okay with you, Bug?”
