I always hate it when I catch her doing too much or getting too caught up in work.
Once we’re all sat around the table, high chairs and bibs, napkins and plates all over the place, food being dropped, spilled, and thrown.
I can finally have a sane conversation with my wife.
“Yes, I spoke to your dad and no he won’t give me an answer. Maybe you could talk to him?” I shrug.
“It’s a big deal for him,” Brooke says, thinking out loud. “I mean, it’s a huge project. He doesn’t want to screw it up,” she says as if I hadn’t figured that.
“He won’t screw it up.” I remind her. “He’d better not screw it up,” I add, imitating the voice her dad puts on when he’s being way too serious, which is every minute he’s at work or on the job.
Brooke laughs until soda comes out of her nose and Lois announces that we’re both “Gross” before letting out a huge belch after sipping her own juice.
The phone rings again and the dogs start up outside, barking at something or another and I get a strong impression that both twins have just refilled their diapers we’ve just changed.
Through all this, after everything we’ve been through and through all the years ahead of us, I don’t regret a single second.
Leaning over, and holding Brooke’s hand to stop her from racing to answer the phone, and through the fog of noise and smells of our family life, I pull her close to me.
Whispering in her ear before I kiss her.
“I love Brooke. I’ll always love you,”
She smiles and whispers back in my ear everything she wants me to do with her once the kids are finally asleep, if they ever fall asleep again.
I know I’ve made it. I’m the richest man alive.
A king with his queen, living in his castle, his legacy right before his eyes getting bigger and cuter by the minute every day.
I love all of them. Brooke, Lois. Anders and Jaxon. Even grumpy old grandpa Mike.
“I love you,” I repeat to Brooke, kissing her across the table, knowing we can always live like this.
Happily ever after.