Page 66 of Sobek’s Joy

Pride surged through Sobek’s chest. “You like it?”

“I love it. The whole room feels peaceful and safe.” Rudy’s hand drifted to his stomach in that unconscious gesture he’d developed. “Our baby’s going to be so happy here.”

Sobek covered Rudy’s hand with his own, magic pulsing to check - yes, heartbeat strong, development progressing perfectly. “They will be.”

“Papa. Dad.”

Rose’s voice echoed from downstairs, followed by thundering footsteps. She burst into the nursery seconds later, Jack and Timothy close behind. All three children skidded to a halt, staring around the room.

“You changed it again,” Jack observed.

“For the last time,” Rudy said firmly. “Right, Sobek?”

“Right.”

Timothy approached the crib, running small fingers along the railing. “It’s nice. The baby will like it.”

“But it’s kind of...” Rose tilted her head, studying the pristine walls. “Boring?”

Sobek stiffened. “Boring?”

“She means plain,” Jack clarified quickly, shooting Rose a warning look. “Not bad. Just...neutral. Empty.”

“The nursery is designed for….”

“What if we helped decorate?” Timothy interrupted, still focused on the crib. “We could make it special for our sibling.”

Through their bond, Sobek felt Rudy’s interest spark. “What did you have in mind?” He really was a fan of the minimal aesthetic. The nursery was the only calmly painted room in the house.

Rose bounced on her toes. “We could paint. Like in our rooms, but for the baby.”

“Paintings of what?” Sobek was sure he was going to regret asking.

“Family,” Jack said simply. “All of us together. So the baby knows they belong.”

Oh, shit. Something softened in Sobek’s chest. He looked at the bare walls, imagining them covered in artwork created by three children who’d claimed his heart as thoroughly as their father had.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Rudy said, squeezing Sobek’s hand. “What do you think?”

Sobek met three hopeful gazes and felt his resistance crumble entirely. “I think the baby would love art created by their siblings.”

Rose whooped and sprinted from the room. Jack followed at a more measured pace, already planning out loud where each painting should go. Timothy lingered, looking up at Sobek with those serious eyes.

“You’re worried,” the boy observed quietly.

Sobek crouched to Timothy’s level. “I want everything perfect for them.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Timothy’s small hand found Sobek’s. “It just has to be ours. That’s what makes it safe.”

Wisdom from a four-year-old. Sobek pulled Timothy into a hug, feeling the child’s trust and love through their bond. “You’re right. Thank you.”

Timothy squeezed back before squirming free and running after his siblings.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Rudy murmured.

“He’s perceptive.”

“He learned from the best.” Rudy tugged Sobek toward the door. “Come on. Let’s supervise this art project before Rose decides finger-painting the ceiling is a good idea.”