Page 144 of Lyric Squared
“Yeah,” I chuckled.
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay, baby, I love carrying your children. You can keep me pregnant as long as you understand you are the primary parent. Always.”
He shook his head. “You love hearing yourself lie, huh?”
“No.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“To make myself feel better.”
“You feed them, baby, and I’ll take it from there. Same deal. New day.”
He was right. Keanu was the ideal partner, but he was a dreamy father. He was involved. He took charge. He changed diapers. He stayed up all night when our daughter couldn’t get to sleep. He cuddled. He built doll houses and toys.
He had tea parties. He painted rooms and changed them around to fit our growing family. He put money aside. He rubbed my feet. He wiped my tears during postpartum.
He learned to plait my hair. He did my nightly skincare routine when I couldn’t bear the thought. He washed my body. He catered to my heart. He made my life as a mother as easy as it could be.
“Thank you.”
“For what, baby?”
“Being everything I’ve always needed.”
“Everything you’ve always deserved,” he explained, cupping my chin.
“I love you.”
“Til death.”
