Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
We walked side by side to the front door and stopped at the sound of Murphy barking and our neighbor calling after him.
I waved Katie off. “It’s okay. Let him come.”
Aaron crouched low, chuckling when Murphy circled him like a small whirlwind. “Gentle, Murph. Say hi to Xander.”
He licked Xander’s cheek, which for some reason was high comedy. Xander giggled and reached for the puppy. Mia mewled in her car seat as if wanting to get in on the action.
I met Aaron’s gaze and grinned.
This was our family, our new beginning.
We were finally on our way.
epilogue
“Children have one kind of silliness, as you know, and grown-ups have another kind.”― C.S. Lewis
Three years later
“Daddy, look at mine! This is so good, huh?”
Mia pushed a stray strand of long raven hair over her shoulder, leaving a streak of white frosting across her cheek. She set the plastic knife on the island—messy side down—and proudly held a cupcake for inspection while shaking her hips to the beat of the kids’ show theme song playing on the flat-screen in the adjacent family room.
I admired the glob of vanilla with an indulgent grin. “So good. Watch the dancing on that stool, Meems. I don’t want you to fall. How’s yours coming along, Xan?”
“Almost done. Are we putting sprinkles on now? Papa likes the rainbow ones,” he said in a serious tone, his blond bangs falling forward as he reached for another cupcake.
“Ooh! I love rainbow spinkles!” Mia shimmied on the stool.
“Sprinkles,” Xander corrected with a laugh. “Not spinkles.”
Mia giggled, then bent to let Murphy lick frosting from her fingers. “I know’d it. Can I put sprinkles on mine now?”
“You’ll have to wash your hands first. You’ve got Murph cooties.” I kissed the top of her head, because I couldn’t resist, before sidling next to Xander to check out the perfectly even row of frosted cupcakes in front of him.
Unlike his sister, Xander approached most chores with the precision of a heart surgeon. His ratio of cake to frosting was exact, and the spread of sugary goodness was meticulously even. Our son was nothing if not precise when it came to building Legos or block towers, or being a sous chef. Much like his Papa, Xan didn’t appreciate messes or unnecessary chaos.
Unless it had something to do with football. Xan loved football. Favorite team? The Steelers, of course.
Mia, on the other hand, was a true free spirit. She skipped and danced wherever she went, usually wearing a tutu and a tiara, with Murphy chasing after her. I’d never met a three-and-a-half-year-old more comfortable in their own skin in my life. She was fearless, ferociously confident, and endlessly curious.
You know the kid who asked twenty questions in response to every basic statement of fact? That was Mia.
Example: Caterpillars make cocoons and become butterflies.
Mia: What kind of butterflies? How many butterflies are in the universe? How many legs does a caterpillar have? Why are they fuzzy? Where do they live? Do they have brothers and sisters? Can I have a sister?
Not gonna lie, it could be exhausting, but we wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“I like Murph cooties,” Mia pronounced. “When will Papa be home? Are we going to hide and say ‘Surprise’?”
“We can if you want. We have twenty minutes to finish with the cupcakes and clean up. If you’re done decorating, you can fix the balloons.”
“Yes!” Mia hopped off the stool and raced to the living room, a flurry of mint-green tulle and pink ribbons.
“Hey, princess. Wash those hands first,” I reminded her.
Mia skipped back to the kitchen and moved the stepstool to the sink. I stood behind her to turn on the faucet and make sure she didn’t empty the soap dispenser and spray the countertops with water. I was all for teaching our kids to be more self-reliant within reason, but Aaron was going to be home soon, and I didn’t feel like mopping the floors.
As soon as her hands were dry, Mia was off in a flash, fussing with the dozen or so mylar balloons near the fireplace all in the shape of the number four.
“I’m done too.” Xander motioned for me to come close and whispered, “Can I do my sprinkles first? Mia makes a mess.”
“Go for it.”
I arranged Mia’s cupcakes on a plate and wiped down the island, chuckling at the little girl lining up the balloons as she explained to Murphy that she was going to be four soon too, and that everyone in our whole family would have a four in their years. Even Murphy.
Xander asked about the football games on later today as he finished his creations. He didn’t have the patience to watch a full game, but I suspected that he liked the rhythm of our new autumn weekend routine. A month ago, he’d started soccer. His team had practice once a week, and every Saturday morning he wore his uniform and kid cleats and ran around the field while parents screamed their lungs out whenever their prodigal athlete-in-training touched the ball.