Page 230 of When Love Takes Root

That one word almost made me cry harder than anything else that day.

Good.

Permission from my son wasn’t something I needed to live, but his peace mattered. His witness mattered. He had loved his father, loved me, helped hold pieces of our house together after grief had tried to scatter us, and now he was standing beside me, not asking me to shrink my joy for loyalty.

Good.

A little later, Josiah found me near the edge of the patio.

“You got a second?”

“For you? Maybe.”

His smile was slow. “Maybe?”

“I’m very booked. The C-Blacks have a survey, Aunt Hilary needs somebody to watch Juice, and I think Uncle Zeke is about to start a seminar on charcoal.”

“Then I better make this quick.”

He took my hand and led me away from the noise, past the patio, beyond the garden beds near the side of the house, to a small bench beneath an oak tree strung with lights. From there, I could still see everyone. The kids running. The adults laughing. Leilani waving a fork while telling a story. Onyx shaking his head. Juice sneaking another dessert, and Melody catching him without even turning around.

It was beautiful chaos, and somehow, it already felt like ours.

Josiah sat beside me, his hand still holding mine.

“You’ve been watching everybody all day.”

“I’m a mother. We watch.”

“You also worry.”

“I’m a mother. We worry.”

He smiled. “Fair.”

I looked out at the yard. “They love you.”

His thumb moved over my knuckles. “I love them.”

I turned toward him.

He didn’t flinch from the size of what he’d said.

“I do. Not in a trying-to-impress-you way. Not in a let-me-say-the-right-thing way. I love those babies. JJ with his old-man spirit. Kayden with all that armor he’s finally letting somebody help him take off. Maya with her sketchbook and her wise little eyes. Zuri and Skye with their tiny board meetings and federal-level interrogations.” I laughed through the ache in my chest. “And I love how your family comes with noise, questions, grief, snacks, side-eyes, and enough personality to exhaust a lesser man.”

“Lesser man?”

“I said what I said.”

I leaned into him. “Your people are just as bad.”

“Worse. Juice alone is a public health concern.”

I laughed, and he lifted my hand to his mouth.

Then his face shifted.

The humor stayed, but something deeper rose beneath it.