Page 153 of The Golden Hour

And yet the smile hasn’t left her face.

She’s been back at Little Acorns for a little over a month, taking over the toddler room again, but she doesn’t feel like she’s gone back to the Honey she was a year ago.

No, she feels even better. Like a whole new version of herself.

Isn’t that what life is? It’s apparent to her every day at work, watching her little ones grow and change. It still knocks her off her feet a little with how different Daisy is, just in a couple of months.

Honey blinks, and there’s a whole new milestone she’s hitting.

And Honey kind of feels the same about herself and Mason, and how much they have grown.

Both for the better, she thinks. That’s why she quickly grabs her lunch bag and purse and swings them over her shoulder as she walks up to her parents' house.

The front door swings open before she can grab it, and she’s greeted by a handsome smile and some excited squealing from her two favorite people.

“Hi, Honey,” Mason smiles, Daisy in his arms with the same smile.

“Ma-ma-ma-ma…” her little girl babbles, melting her into a puddle. She knows that at six months old, it’s only babbling. Daisy doesn’t understand what she’s saying yet, but that doesn’t stop Honey’s heart from pretending she knows what she’s saying. That she’s calling out for Honey, the way Honey’s soul calls out for Daisy.

Mason had been so excited when she first said ma-ma-ma at dinner two weeks ago, taking video after video of it. Then he tried to get Daisy to say da-da, but their little girl seemed to know it. Every time he would go, “say da-da, baby girl, say da-da,” she would just smile at him and say, “ma-ma-ma-ma.”

“I get it, Daisy girl,” he would sigh, pressing a kiss to Daisy’s head. “I’m obsessed with your mama, too.”

“Show mommy what you’re wearing,” Mason says now, adjusting Daisy in his arms so that Honey can see what’s on the front of her pink long-sleeve onesie.

Mommy’s Little Sweetheart.

Honey’s eyes sting, and Mason smiles knowingly.

“I told you she’d love it,” Mason says to Daisy, who gives him a small smile, before turning her head to Honey and then reaching both hands out toward her mommy.

That sight will never get old for Honey.

“Trade ya,” Mason smiles.

Both move in sync, him grabbing her bags from her as she takes Daisy into her arms and smothers her with kisses. Daisy squeals and grabs onto her favorite thing—the necklace around Honey’s neck, the one with the honeycomb and the daisy.

“I missed you,” Honey squeezes Daisy to her, but she’s looking at Mason as she says it. And he must read her mind because his grin turns very pleased, almost smug.

She rolls her eyes and follows him into the warm house, letting him lead them into the kitchen.

“How was work?” Mason asks.

“Exciting,” Honey answers, though she really means chaotic in the way that only three-year-olds can conjure. Mason’s knowing grin says he understands.

“My poor baby,” he murmurs, already taking her empty Tupperware containers he packed for her that morning and putting them in the dishwasher. “They run you ragged?”

“As always,” she answers with a smile.

Honey watches him for a long moment, deep appreciation settling in her chest. Every single day, from the first day she went back, Mason has packed her lunch for her, along with some snacks and a note.

At first, they were just sweet little notes.

Have a wonderful day, beautiful.

You are my favorite part of every day.

The kids are so lucky to have you.