We both know we probably won't. Emmy's been teething, which means she's been waking up crying at least once a night. But that's okay. I don't mind getting up with her. Don't mind the interrupted sleep.
It's so different from the nightmares that used to wake me. Better. Worth it.
Jade moves to the couch and I follow, sitting beside her. She immediately curls into my side, the way she always does, and I wrap my arm around her.
"How was the wood chopping?" she asks.
"Good. Got through most of the pile."
"Your shoulders are going to be sore tomorrow."
"Probably."
"Want me to rub them later?"
"Always."
She laughs softly. "Such a demanding husband."
"You love it."
"I really do."
We sit in comfortable silence, the kind we've perfected over three years together. The fire crackles. The monitor on the side table shows Emmy still sleeping peacefully. Ridge scratches at the door and I let him in, and he immediately goes to his bed in the corner.
Everything is exactly where it should be.
"I was thinking," Jade says after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe we should start talking about preschool options. I know Emmy's still a baby, but the good ones have waitlists."
"She's seven months old."
"I know, but—"
"Jade."
She looks up at me. "What?"
"We've got time. We'll figure it out when we need to."
She smiles. "You're right. Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself."
"You always do."
"Someone has to plan around here."
"And someone has to remind you to slow down."
She kisses my jaw. "We make a good team."
"Yeah. We do."
And we do. In ways I never imagined possible. She plans, I ground her. I shut down, she pushes. She asks questions, I eventually answer them. I chop wood, she makes our house a home.
We balance each other.
