Who was passed out in his toddler bed, his butt stuck in the air, same as he’d slept since he’d been able to roll onto his belly to get into that position.
Navigating the stuffed animals and books and Duplos littering the floor, Jordan went to the bookcase and pulled out Goodnight Moon.
“And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush,” he whispered to himself, opening up to Carter’s page, heart thudding when his fingers brushed another slip of paper.
I knew you’d find it because you’re a great father, because you pay attention to the details. You always remember the important things, and we are so lucky to have you. Now before I cry (damned hormones!), you’ll find your next clue in the last-minute project you ran out to get supplies for.
He’d known it was coming, that logic told him he’d be next journeying to Hunter’s room. But, considering he’d been cursing to himself about having to craft a mission out of popsicle sticks and craft glue only hours before, this made him smile.
After quietly closing the door behind him, he moved to his oldest son’s room, heart expanding with love when he saw the mini-me of his brother sacked out on top of the covers, a book open on his chest. Such a voracious reader, just like Abby was. And . . . just like Zach had been. Though he missed his brother intensely, Jordan knew he was beyond lucky to have Hunter in his life.
Carefully, he put a bookmark in to keep Hunter’s place—he’d lived with bookworms long enough to not make that mistake—set the book aside and tugged the covers up and over his son.
Then he moved over to the dreaded mission project to read the note propped up outside its front door.
If you were like our dads, you wouldn’t have known about my crocheting or the photos. If you were like your or my father, you wouldn’t have known about the lovely or the favorite page in the book or Hunter’s last-minute project. If you were like them, you wouldn’t know where to find me now.
So for your final clue, your wife will be in her favorite place. The one you made so special for her.
“Fuck, but I love you, Abby,” he whispered, pocketing the note, and continuing down the hall. Past their bedroom and into the small study that he’d converted into a reading nook.
White shelves stacked high with books. A comfy chair with colorful throw pillows and fluffy blankets. A space heater because the blanket was never enough.
And his wife.
Sitting on that chair, with a fuzzy throw covering her, a book in her lap.
In her favorite pajamas, cozy socks on the feet sticking out from beneath the blanket.
She set the book aside. “Hi,” she whispered.
His heart was full. “Hi, baby,” he said, crossing over to her. “How—” He broke off, not knowing what to say except, “I love you.”
Her eyes were gentle. “I love you, too. I’m sorry if I didn’t show that to you before, or at least not how I should have.” She brushed her fingers over his jaw. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He took those fingers in his, squeezed lightly. “Honey, don’t say that. I’m fine. I—”
“Jordan.” Her voice was firm. “Don’t sweep this under the rug. I hurt you.”
He started to shake his head, then stopped, knowing he owed them both the truth. “Okay, I was hurt. I felt . . .” A sigh, but she was silent. “I think part of me has always worried I’ll turn out like them, even though I know exactly how valuable our life is.”
“But you’re not like them.” She took his hand, squeezed it. “And I’m so sorry that I made you think that.”
“It’s o—”
“Not okay,” she said sternly. “Certainly not okay. But I’ll do what it takes to prove to you that my insecurity was about me, about my childhood baggage, and had nothing to do with you.”
His heart was full, that jagged cut not nearly so painful. Because of the notes and the journey, because of the love and care in her eyes, her touch, her words. He cupped her cheek. “I’m familiar with baggage, childhood and otherwise, but it’s so much easier to bear knowing I have you and the kids. You make my life full. And the notes . . . baby . . . the things you said.” His voice cracked, but he pushed on. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more loved or appreciated, and I want you to feel that same way, to be secure that I’m not going to leave you like our fathers did, trading wives and families like baseball cards.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I want you to know that I’m here for the long haul and don’t care what you look like or how many kids are running around our house or whether or not I have to go out for wood glue. I love you. The person you are inside. The person you’ve helped me become. The family we’ve built. The—” His throat went tight, words stoppering up at the top of it. “I just love you,” he finished, not too poetically, but it was the truth.
And probably the most important truth.
“I love you, too,” she said, lips curved into a soft smile. “Throughout these last couple of weeks, I realized I was living in comparisons.” A shrug. “I know that doesn’t make much sense, but basically I was comparing my body to how it looked before kids, comparing the things we’re not doing with what we used to do, comparing everything I felt for you and how much it has changed. And it is different.” She bit her lip. “I was worried that because my love felt different from a few years ago, it meant yours did too and that it would mean your passion would fade or that you would eventually want something different.”
“Abbs—”
“But now I understand my mind, my feelings better,” she said, squeezing his hand. “We’re not in the first bloom of love, we’re in the forest of it. We’re the tall trees growing up to the sky, the flowers sprouting beneath, the animals and critters weaving and running in between. Clearly, I’m not one for poetry.” A laugh as she shook her head. “But suffice to say, I’ve realized comparing our life now to how it had once been without thinking of how much it has expanded is unacceptable. It may be different, but for all the differences, it’s so fucking incredible that sometimes I feel like I’m at risk of waking up from the best dream ever. Because”—she leaned forward, brushed her lips across his—“I have you and Hunter and Carter and Emma and my nosy friends, and we’ve made our own family that’s not in the shadow of what we grew up in. It’s fully in the sunshine and it’s wonderful.”
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, the words broken, tears dangerously close to spilling over. “You’re killing me.”