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He chuckles. “I know.”

“Santa came!”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

Maverick looks at me.

I look at him.

His mouth twitches. “Because Santa always comes.”

There’s silence on the other side of the door.

Then, suspiciously, “Is Noelle in there? She’s not in her room.”

My eyes go wide.

Maverick doesn’t even blink.

“Yes.”

I smack his arm.

He looks down at me. “What?”

I’m just about to remind him of his amendment last night about not telling Shiloh right away so we can figure things out without confusing him, but Shiloh speaks first.

“Why?” A beat. “Did she have a bad dream?”

I clap both hands over my mouth.

Maverick’s shoulders start shaking. “No,” he says.

“So y’all had a sleepover without me?” Shiloh asks.

“We did. I’m sorry, buddy,” Maverick says.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can we open presents now?”

“Give us five minutes.”

“That’s forever.”

“Five minutes.”

A long-suffering sigh comes through the door. Four years old and already carrying the weight of the world. “Okay.” Little feet slap against the hallway floor.

We wait until they disappear.

“A sleepover?”

“He asked.” He leans down and kisses me.