Page 32 of The Rancher’s Bride

But the man standing beside me now is also the one who packs school lunches when I’m tired, checks beneath beds for monsters, and sits through tea parties wearing a plastic crown because Brielle tells him he has to.

He kisses my temple. “What’re you smiling about?”

“You.”

“Something good?”

“Mostly.”

He squeezes my hip. “Keep talking like that and we’ll put the kids to bed early tonight.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You’d better believe it.”

The train door opens before I can respond, and children begin spilling onto the platform. Wren appears first, holding a small wrapped box. Toby follows with a wooden train whistle, and Brielle comes down the steps clutching a stuffed reindeer almost as large as she is.

“Daddy!” she shouts.

Damian puts the tray of drinks into my hands and crouches. Brielle runs straight into him, and he catches her against his chest.

“What’d Santa give you?” he asks.

“A reindeer. His name is Jingle, and he’s magic.”

“Naturally.”

Toby blows his train whistle directly beside them.

Damian turns his head slowly. “Son.”

Toby lowers it.

“That stays in your pocket until we get home.”

“But Santa said I could play with it.”

“Santa isn’t riding in the truck with us.”

Toby considers this before slipping the whistle into his coat pocket. Damian is firm with the children when he needs to be, but he rarely loses his temper. He explains things. He listens. When he gets something wrong, he admits it instead of digging in until everyone is miserable.

Sometimes I look at him with our children and wonder whether the man I first met would recognize himself.

We walk toward the parking lot together, Wren telling me everything Santa said while Toby interrupts to correct her. Brielle stays in Damian’s arms, whispering secrets about her reindeer into his ear.

Our truck sits near the back of the lot. It’s bigger than the old one, with enough room for three children, groceries, schoolbags, ranch supplies, and the small collection of toys that somehow follows us everywhere.

The arguing begins before we leave town.

“Brielle touched my present,” Wren says from the back seat.

“I was only looking,” Brielle protests.

“You bent the paper.”

“Toby bent it.”

“I didn’t even touch it,” Toby says.