Page 122 of Checking It Twice
The quiet stretches between us, comfortable and familiar. Outside, snow is starting to fall again, fat flakes drifting past the window. This time last year, I was pregnant and terrified, trying to figure out how to be someone’s wife. Now I’m someone’s mother too, and the responsibility of it feels both enormous and surprisingly natural.
“Thank you,” I say suddenly.
“For what?”
“For bringing us here. For sharing this with me.” I look down at Charlie, then back at him. “For giving me her.”
He grins. “You did ninety-nine percent of the work.”
There’s something in his expression that makes my heart skip, the same intensity he had that first Christmas when he looked at me like I was something precious.
“I love you,” he says quietly, lifting a sleeping Charlie from my arms to settle her gently in the temporary crib.
“Ready to go back down?”
I look at my sleeping daughter, then at my husband, then toward the door that leads back to the warm chaos of family life.
“Yeah,” I say, and mean it completely. “Let’s do it.”
He helps me up, and we head back toward the stairs. The house is even louder now, with what sounds like a very heated debate about board games coming from the living room.
“Fair warning,” Mitch says as we reach the top of the stairs. “Sophie’s been asking when we’re having another baby.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That she should ask you.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I do,” I say as we head back into the joyful commotion of the Drake family Christmas. “Even when you’re setting me up for awkward conversations with nine-year-olds.”
“My bad.” He grins, completely unrepentant.
The sound of laughter drifts up from below—his family,ourfamily, waiting for us to rejoin the madness. It’s loud, overwhelming, and absolutely perfect.
I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
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