Page 24 of The Firefighter’s Forever

“I’m volunteering to get you out of this kitchen.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“It should.”

She laughs and hands me a towel.

We fall into the familiar rhythm of it. She rinses, I dry. She loads the dishwasher wrong on purpose because she knows it bothers me, and I fix it while she pretends not to notice. It’s ordinary. Domestic. Perfect.

I glance over at her as she wipes down the counter. “So when are we starting on baby number two?”

Her hand pauses. Then she looks at me slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Did the last year completely erase itself from your memory?”

“No.”

“The sleep deprivation?”

“Yep. I remember it.”

“The diapers?”

“Vividly.”

“The four-month sleep regression where I cried in the pantry eating peanut butter from a spoon?”

“I found you and brought chocolate chips.”

“You did.” Her mouth twitches. “But you’re still seriously bringing up another baby?”

“Yes.”

She folds the dish towel and sets it on the counter, studying me. “You really mean it.”

“I really do.” I step closer. “Our kid is the best thing I’ve ever had a hand in making. And watching you become his mother made me fall in love with you in ways I didn’t know existed.”

Her expression falters, and there it is. The look that still has the power to put me on my knees.

“Lucas.”

“What?”

“You can’t say things like that while I’m trying to be practical.”

“I’m very practical.” I rest my hands on her hips and pull her against me. “We already have the crib.”

She laughs, but her hands slide up my chest. “That’s your argument?”

“I’ve got others.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I bend until my mouth brushes her ear. “We could start trying tonight.”

She lets out a soft, wordless sound.