Anyway, I wanted to say thank you.
For the advice. The snark. The unsolicited goat GIFs.
And for reminding me that sometimes, being vulnerable is worth the mess.
Especially when the mess wears linen dresses and sings to animals.
TL;DR:
She stayed. So did the goat. And for once in my life, I’m not looking for the exit.
[gayunclesrevenge]: I KNEW IT. My enemies-to-lovers radarneverfails. Proud of you, emotionally reformed legal bro.
[goatgirl66]: GEORGE STAYS. WINNING!
[CozyChaosQueen]: This is the best rom-com I’ve ever read.
[MuffinStan92]: Please confirm if Muffin was flower dog at your wedding. The people NEED TO KNOW.
[passiveaggressiveduck]: You’ve come a long way, my dude. I’m genuinely proud.
Epilogue II
Five Years Later
Dean
She’s crying again.
Not the angry, hungry cry, but the soft, hiccupy one that means bad dreams. I’m out of bed before my brain catches up, bare feet on the cold hardwood, muscle memory guiding me down the hall.
“Hey, sweet girl.”
Emma’s sitting up in her crib, tears on her cheeks, clutching the stuffed goat Nadine gave her. (Yes, a goat. Yes, I protested. Yes, I lost.)
“Dada.”
One word. It wrecks me every time.
“Yeah, baby. Daddy’s here.” I scoop her up, and she melts into my chest. Eighteen months old, and she already has me wrapped around her tiny finger. “Bad dream?”
She nods against my shoulder, still sniffling, her breath warm against my neck.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No.” Firm. Decisive. She already knows what she wants.
“Okay.” I don’t push. We have time for that later.
I carry her to the rocking chair Poppy insisted on. Said every nursery needs one. I argued about cost per use; she won by being pregnant.
Emma curls into me, thumb in mouth, breathing still shaky. I rock, hum something tuneless, and wait.
This is my favorite part of fatherhood. Not the fun stuff—though watching her chase George III (don’t ask) around the yard is pretty great. But this: the weight of her trust, the way she fits perfectly in the crook of my arm, the absolute certainty that I’d burn the world down to keep her safe.
“Better?”
She nods but doesn’t move, burrowing deeper. We’ve got time.
