Sloane chuckled, her eyes following her daughter.
“She’s been holding it in the whole way here,” I said, laughing. “Before we left Mom’s house, I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom, and she said no.”
Sloane chuckled again, a light, airy sound. I noticed something different about her—a subtle ease in the way she carried herself,as if the storm that had weighed on her for so long had finally passed and she could breathe a little easier, move a little lighter.
“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” I said, my gaze softening as I looked at her. My heart and entire body felt like they were softening too.
She turned to me, her expression mirroring mine, and said, “Would you like to come in?”
I looked at her, momentarily stunned. She had surprised me a few times today, and all of them had been good.
“Of course,” I said, smiling happily. “Thank you.”
I stepped inside and took off my coat and shoes while Sloane closed the door.
“Have you had dinner yet? I just made lasagna,” she said. “It’s still in the oven, probably needs another five minutes.”
I had just finished dinner with Harper at Mom’s house, but all I could say to her was, “I’d love that, thank you.”
I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.
She walked to the kitchen, and I followed, Harper already finished and joining us.
“Something smells delicious! What are you cooking?” she asked her mom.
“Lasagna,” Sloane replied. “Want some?”
“No, thanks, Mommy. Daddy and I already ate at Grandma’s. She cooked lasagna, too.”
Sloane turned to me quickly, brows raised, her eyes full of questions.
“I wasn’t eating that much,” I started, then trailed off. “I can still eat some more.”
“But you had two plates, Daddy?” Harper asked, blinking at me, her tone innocent.
“I’m a big guy. I can handle a little more, baby,” I told her.
My daughter narrowed her eyes at me, unconvinced. When I looked at Sloane, she was grinning.
“Can you grab the wine?” she asked. “I have one in the fridge.”
“Sure,” I said quickly, relieved the conversation had shifted. I went to the fridge and pulled out the bottle.
“I’m going to bed,” Harper said, yawning loudly. “I’m sleepy.” I looked at her and knew she was faking it, just like I had been faking hunger.
“Come here and give me a kiss first,” Sloane said. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“Yes, Mommy. Love you.”
And then another surprise. “I love you too, baby.”
I froze, the bottle still in my hand, completely stunned. There was no trace of tension in her expression, no heavy breathing, nothing of the strain I had seen before. She said it with complete ease.
My chest filled with pride. Sloane was a fighter, through and through.
Harper ran over and wrapped her arms around my waist. I kissed her forehead and whispered goodnight before she darted upstairs to her room.
And then it was just the two of us.
