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"We're back," Brock says, laughing as he scoops her up into a huge hug. "Did you miss us?"

"Yes! Grandma and Grandpa took me to the zoo, and we made cookies, and I finished my chapter book!" She wiggles down, planting her sneakers on the floor, and turns to me with wide, shining eyes. "Did you bring me a souvenir?"

I laugh and reach into my carry-on bag, pulling out a small wrapped package. "We did. Open it."

She eagerly tears into the paper and gasps when she sees the delicate shell bracelet inside, each smooth shell painted with tiny tropical flowers. "It's so pretty!"

"I'm glad you like it," I say, kneeling down to help her fasten it around her wrist.

She throws her arms around my neck, hugging me tight against the bustle of travelers walking past. "Thank you, Miss Megan."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Brock’s parents greet us warmly, helping Brock grab our suitcases from the carousel before heading off to their own car. On the drive back from the airport, Kayla chatters nonstop from the backseat, filling us in on every detail of her week.

When we pull into the driveway and step through the front door of our house, the quiet familiarity wraps around me like a warm blanket. Brock sets our luggage in the hallway, and the three of us settle onto the living room couch together. Kayla sits between us, her words tumbling over each other as she shows us her book and admires her new bracelet, while Brock keeps one arm securely draped around my shoulders.

I lean into his side, watching Kayla beam, and the last trace of travel exhaustion fades into pure contentment. There’s no uncertainty left, no lingering doubts about where I fit—just the steady, quiet rightness of our home, our life, and our family.

The weeks after the honeymoon blur into a rhythm of work and home and ordinary joy. Kayla finishes second grade with excellent marks, and I finish my school year exhausted but satisfied. Summer arrives with long, lazy days and the kind of heat that makes everything slow down.

In late June, we celebrate Kayla's eighth birthday with a party in the backyard. Brock sets up a sprinkler and a slip-and-slide, and a dozen of Kayla's friends run shrieking through the water while parents sit in the shade with cold drinks. Cora is here, along with Brock's parents, and early in the afternoon, I hear a familiar voice call across the lawn.

"Megan!"

I turn at the sound of my name and smile when I see Lauren Bennett walking toward me, Andrew at her side.

"Lauren! It's good to see you."

She pulls me into a quick hug. "You too. I feel like I haven't seen you since the last week of school."

"Hasn't been that long," I laugh.

"Tell that to Kayla. She's been counting down the days until her birthday since April."

Andrew chuckles, holding up a brightly wrapped gift. "She also gave us very specific instructions about what she wanted."

"That sounds like Kayla."

Lauren glances toward the backyard, where Brock is helping Kayla and her friends get the sprinkler running. Then she turns back to me, her smile softening.

"You know, when Kayla first told me you and Brock were dating, I wasn't sure what to think."

My stomach tightens. "I understand."

"Not because of you," she says quickly. "I've known you since Kayla started first grade. I've seen how much you care about her. I just wondered how everything would work."

I nod. "So did I."

"But she's happy. Brock's happy." Lauren smiles. "And judging by the way he's been looking over here every thirty seconds, I'd say he's more than happy."

I laugh, my cheeks warming.

"He's been good to me."

"I'm glad." She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "And I really am happy for you both."

Before I can respond, Kayla races toward us, her ponytail bouncing.