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I knew Maverick loved his son. Of course I did. That’s the entire reason we’re married. But knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.

Shiloh finally releases him.

Maverick straightens.

Our eyes meet.

For a second, neither of us says anything.

Then Shiloh murmurs, “Night, Noelle.”

I smile. “Goodnight, sweet boy.”

We start toward the door.

“Wait.”

I turn.

“What, honey?”

His eyes are closed.

His little hand is curled around the neck of his stuffed dinosaur.

“Love you.”

I stop breathing. Just— Stop. For a second, I can’t move. I can’t think. I can only stare at this little boy who has somehow worked his way so thoroughly into my heart in less than a month that I can’t imagine what my days would look like without him.

I know those words are for his father, but still hearing them makes me yearn for him to direct them to me.

“Love you too, son,” Maverick says.

“Love Noelle too,” Shiloh says sleepily.

He loves me. Shiloh loves me. Oh, goodness. My eyes burn, and my heart thunders in my ears. I swallow hard. “Love you too, Shiloh.”

The words come easily. Because they’re true. So completely true that it’s almost frightening. I love this little boy.

I love his dinosaur rain boots and his ridiculous opinions about vegetables and the way he insists on holding my hand when we cross a parking lot.

I love that he calls for me when he wakes up from a bad dream.

I love that he wants me to read the bear book even though we’ve read it approximately four thousand times.

I love him.

And apparently I am going to cry about it.

Excellent.

I turn off the lamp before anyone can see my face.

Maverick follows me into the hallway and pulls the door almost closed.

I immediately start walking. Not running. That would be undignified. But definitely moving with purpose.

“Noelle.”