Liam caught her eye over Ethan’s inverted form, his smile softening. Something passed between them in that look — acknowledgment of the journey, gratitude for second chances, the quiet miracle of ordinary happiness.
Eventually, Ethan scampered off to play with his trucks. Liam crossed to where Sunny stood, dropping a casual kiss on her forehead.
“I saw that look,” he murmured. “What were you thinking?”
“Just… remembering a different couch-jumping incident. From when I first arrived.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a flash of regret. “I was a different man then. Didn’t know how to father without anger.”
“You’ve learnt,” Sunny said simply, squeezing his arm.
Liam’s gaze drifted to the mantelpiece, where Kate’s photo remained alongside newer family pictures. “She would have done it better from the start. She never lost her temper with them.”
“Maybe,” Sunny acknowledged. “But they have your strength, your determination. That matters too.”
He nodded, eyes still on Kate’s smiling image. “Sometimes I wonder if she’d approve. Of how I’m raising them. Of… us.”
Sunny followed his gaze to the photograph. Kate’s smile seemed to contain both joy and mystery, like she knew secrets about life that the living were still discovering.
“I think,” Sunny said carefully, “that she’d approve of happy children and a husband who’s learnt to live again.”
Liam’s arm slipped around her waist, drawing her close. “When did you get so wise?”
“Must be all that practice dealing with an obstinate hockey player and his equally stubborn children,” she teased.
His laughter rumbled against her, warm and real. “Speaking of obstinate children, it’s almost dinnertime. Should I start the grill?”
“Perfect,” Sunny nodded, knowing they both needed a moment to collect themselves after the unexpected emotional current. “I’ll get the side dishes ready.”
As Liam headed outside to the patio, Sunny watched him through the window, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he moved, unburdened by the weight of grief that had once seemed permanent. There would still be moments of sadness, still days when Kate’s absence felt sharp and immediate. But they had learnt to make room for those moments without being defined by them.
She touched her abdomen lightly, wondering about the new life growing there. Would this child have Sunny’s artistic flair, or Liam’s athletic grace? What new pieces would this little one bring to their family puzzle?
Tonight, she decided. Tonight she would tell him.
Sunny
Evening cloaked the garden in soft shadows, the day’s heat giving way to gentle warmth. Dinner had been cleared away, the children bathed and settled with books and quiet games before bedtime. Sunny stood alone on the back porch, watching fireflies begin their nightly dance among the rosebushes she’d planted when they first moved into this house.
The screen door creaked open behind her. She didn’t turn, knowing Liam’s footsteps by heart now — the slight unevenness from his old hockey injury, the deliberate pace that spoke of a man comfortable in his skin.
“Beautiful night,” he said, joining her at the railing.
“Mmm,” she agreed, leaning slightly into his solid presence.
Silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar. After three years of marriage, they’d learnt the value of quiet moments together, no words needed to fill the space.
“Three years ago today,” Liam said finally, his voice low, “you came back to us. To me.”
Sunny turned to him, surprised. “You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered.” His blue eyes were serious in the gathering dusk. “Second chances don’t come along often enough to forget.”
She smiled, reaching for his hand. “Our ‘Second Chance Day.’”
“Has a nicering to it,” he agreed, fingers intertwining with hers. “Maybe we should make it official. Add it to the calendar alongside anniversaries and birthdays.”
“Speaking of adding things…” Sunny took a deep breath, her heart suddenly racing. She reached into her pocket with her free hand, withdrawing a small box wrapped with a simple blue ribbon.
