Just us.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?” I’m already half-asleep, her warmth making me drowsy.
“What were you thinking about? In the chair with Emma?”
I consider lying, saying something flip. But it’s almost midnight, and she’s in my arms, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
“How I never thought I’d have this.”
She props up on an elbow, looking down at me in the dim light. “This?”
“You. Her. The whole… thing.” I gesture vaguely at the room, at our life. “Family. The real kind. Not the performance my parents put on.”
“Dean—” She starts, but I need to finish.
“I was so scared when you were pregnant.” The admission comes out rough, caught in my throat. “I kept thinking I’d mess it up. Be like my dad. Cold. Distant. More interested in winning than… than being there.”
“But you’re not.” Her hand finds my chest, palm flat over my heart.
“Because of you.” I cover her hand with mine.
“No.” Her hand finds my face in the dark, cupping my cheek. “Because of you. Because you chose differently. Every day, you choose her. Choose us.”
“Easy choice.” The easiest I’ve ever made.
She kisses me—soft, sweet. My body notices.
“You need sleep,” I tell her, even as I pull her closer.
“In a minute.” She settles against me, fitting perfectly.
“Poppy—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“Just… let me stay here a minute. With you. Like this.”
So I do. I hold her while her breathing evens out, while the house settles around us, while our daughter dreams whatever perfect dreams toddlers have.
“Love you,” she whispers, mostly asleep.
“Love you too, disaster.”
“Your disaster.” Her words are slurred with sleep.
“The only one I want.”
She’s out between one breath and the next. I should sleep too. Big day tomorrow—deposition at nine, Emma’s playdate at two, dinner with Mason and Ivy.
But for now, I just hold her—my wife, the mother of my child, the woman who crashed into my life with a goat and rebuilt me from the ground up.
Worth every sleepless night.
Worth everything.
Emma’s awake.
Not crying. Just… talking. Full conversations with her goat about God knows what.
