We fall asleep wrapped around each other, and sometime in the early morning, June wakes up fussing. I'm up before Maya can move, lifting our daughter from her crib and settling into the chair by the window to rock her back to sleep.
She settles against my chest, her tiny hand fisted in my shirt, her breathing evening out as she drifts off again. Through the window, I can see Main Street below, see our restaurant sign illuminated by streetlights.
Juniper's Cedar Falls. Our second location. Our expanding dream.
And at home in Blackwater Falls, the original Juniper's is being watched over by our trained staff, continuing to serve the community that embraced us from the start.
Granddad Jim is probably asleep in his house, proud of his grandsons who both came home and built lives here. Owen and Ivy are probably tangled up together, celebrating their pregnancy news. Our staff, our extended family, are living their lives, secure in the knowledge that they're valued and appreciated.
And here in this hotel room, my wife is sleeping peacefully, trusting me to care for our daughter, confident in the partnership we've built.
"I did good, Grandma June," I whisper to the woman I named my daughter after, the woman who started all of this by teaching a kid to cook with love and respect. "I think you'd be proud."
And somehow, in the quiet of this hotel room in a small town two hours from home, I know she would be.
I know she is.
Because this, all of this, is exactly what she taught me cooking could be: not about ego or perfection or impressing people, but about connection and community and love made visible.
I carry June back to her crib and tuck her in, then slip back into bed beside Maya. She mumbles something in her sleep and curls into me, and I wrap my arms around her.
And tomorrow, we'll wake up and do it all again. We'll feed our daughter and check in with both restaurants and probably argue about menu changes and definitely kiss in the kitchen when we think no one's looking.
We'll live this beautiful, chaotic, perfect life we've created together.
And I wouldn't change a single thing.