Page 155 of The Golden Hour

“And you’ve been working all day,” Mason says, before his eyes narrow. “Do you want to put her down?”

Honey nods sheepishly. “I miss her. I miss doing this with her all the time.”

Mason smiles. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll get dinner started.”

“What are we having tonight, Chef Carpenter?”

Honey hasn’t cooked a meal in months because Mason has completely taken over cooking for them. And apparently, his ADHD thrives in the kitchen.

“Well, I thought we would start with an appetizer of some fresh garlic bread and bruschetta,” Mason says with a fake-Italian accent.

Honey giggles and then hums, “Go on...”

“Next, a fresh, crisp Caesar salad, and then a main course of chicken parm,” Mason grins. “And ice cream for dessert.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Honey says, before sniffing haughtily. “Now get to it.”

“Yes, chef!” Mason salutes and then gives her a wink that makes her only a little weak in the knees. Only a little. Honey turns to walk out of the kitchen, but stops in the doorway.

“Mason,” she asks.

He turns from where he was grabbing the ingredients from the fridge and tilts his head.

“Yes, Honey?”

Honey smiles. “Thank you.”

Mason’s brow furrows. “For what?”

Her entire body only melts at his words and the confusion in them.

Because he’s not doing this for praise, for accolades, for her to stroke his ego. He’s cooking for her because he loves her, because he wants to. He’s been such a wonderful father because Daisy deserves it. He’s been such a wonderful coparent because Honey deserves it.

And he chose to leave emergency medicine not just because Honey deserves it, or Daisy deserves it, but because he deserves it.

“A lot,” Honey says, adjusting a sleepy Daisy in her arms. “For everything. For choosing us. For staying.”

Mason’s smile softens, and the way he looks at her and Daisy is like someone seeing the sun for the first time.

“Honey,” he rasps. “There’s no place on earth I would rather be.”

Two hours later, Honey and Mason are working side by side to clean up.

Honey is rinsing their plates and loading them into the dishwasher, periodically glancing toward where Daisy is sitting in her pack and play, gnawing on Ellie’s ear while she watches cartoons.

Mason put on soft music through dinner as the three of them sat at the dining room table together. Daisy sat in her high chair between them while Mason and Honey shared secret smiles over her little blonde head.

Each took turns feeding her. Per Dr. Adonis, since Daisy turned six months old, they’ve started introducing soft foods to Daisy. She’s not a fan of mashed carrots, is a huge fan of applesauce, and will throw mashed peas at you if you bring the spoon anywhere near her mouth.

Honey had laughed uncontrollably last week when Mason walked into the living room with green all over his face.

“Please tell me that’s the peas,” Honey had said between laughter, knowing their daughter’s proficiency for making diaper changing very difficult for her daddy. She has since granted him mercy, but still.

“She’s not a fan,” Mason had answered, trying and failing to hide his smile as Honey cleaned his face with a wet wipe.

Dr. Adonis chuckled when she told him the story at her last appointment. He’s actually become more of a friend than just their pediatrician, especially since he wrote Mason a really nice letter of recommendation for CHOP.

Mason starts his pediatrics residency in July. At square one, but, like she told him when he had fretted about being thirty-three by the time he would finish.