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‘Menno’s mom might beg to disagree,’ I remind him.

Luuk huffs. ‘Right, because she’s raising such a gem of a kid.’

‘God, I hate that little shit!’ I admit. ‘I just want to wring the neck of everyone trying to harm my babies, regardless of their age.’

‘I’m totally with you,’ he says. ‘I would love to have a few words with that brat. And his mom. And the teacher, who does nothing.’

‘And I thought it’s just moms who are overprotective,’ I say, laughing, then freeze, when I hear my own words out loud. ‘Not that you… You aren’t…’

Luuk’s expression becomes dead serious. ‘I’m absolutely overprotective of them. I might not be in their lives as much as I’d like to, but I’d do anything for them. You know that, right?’

It hurts how much I long to have him in our lives more… forever. But I swallow the words and say, ‘Wait till they start asking you to go pick them up from school so they can show off to their classmates.’

‘That can happen as soon as tomorrow.’ Luuk shrugs as if school pickup is no big deal for him. ‘I’m dying to get on that bakfiets of yours.’

‘Haha, I bet the world will swoon again, seeing the Luuk Meiers on a cargo bike. Do you even remember how to cycle at all, though?’ I tease him. ‘I’ve heard that with so much driving in that country you call home, you forget how to walk.’

‘That’s why we hit the gym, go on the treadmill,’ he replies, not missing a beat. ‘As for cycling, you know what they say—it’s just like sex…’

I almost expect an Oh, shit… to follow the short pause, but he just sits there, eyes wide open in terror and face flushed, as if he’s just swallowed a jalapeño pepper. His gaze searches my face in almost agony, so I decide to put him out of his misery.

‘As if you need to remember that part.’ I cackle a tad more intensely than necessary, the thought of Luuk in bed with one of the bra-launchers a punch in the gut.

Direct questions about dating and relationships are matters we happily skirt around. We don’t assume the other is celibate, don’t make specific mentions to how non-celibacy happens either. I dread the day that one of his affairs mentioned in articles—complete with photographic evidence—will be the real deal and he’ll propose to her during one of his concerts in a grand gesture, and then he’ll start a life and a family with his future wife, having kids of his own.

To be fair, it’s not that I’ve been a nun since the kids were born: there have been flings, either to quickly scratch an itch, or to see whether things would be taken further. To nobody’s surprise, they did not. All it took was for him to tuck in my kids for my possessiveness to skyrocket.

I want Luuk for me. For us.

‘Mom…?’ Ada’s voice emerges from the bedroom, and I spring up, almost letting out a sigh of relief at not needing to follow up on the sex-bike conversation.

Ada is sitting at the edge of her bed, hair all over the place, fists rubbing her eyes. I sit next to her, almost hitting against the frame, wrap her in my arms and nuzzle her hair.

‘What is it, baby? Bad dream?’

She shakes her head. ‘Where is Luuk?’

‘I’m here, princess.’ He’s already crouching in front of her.

‘I forgot to say goodnight,’ Ada says, her head already leaning heavy against my chest.

Luuk’s gaze towards my daughter is adoring. ‘I believe you said it right before you closed your eyes. But we can say it again.’

Ada lets out a deep sigh and turns on her side. ‘Goodnight, Luuk.’

‘Goodnight, Ada,’ he whispers and stands up, as I pull the covers over her.

‘I wish you’d never leave.’

Never have such softly spoken words sat so heavily on my chest, putting my heart on alert mode. It’s painful to hear my daughter say out loud the words I cannot. Because what can I say to the man who’s living his dream? Please, come back to the country you grew up in and be with us?

When we turn towards the living room, Luuk pauses. ‘I’d… better head back.’

‘You can stay. I’m not going to bed anytime soon.’

It’s not exactly true; it’s been a long day, and I’ll probably collapse in a bit, but I don’t want him to go. Not now, not ever. So, just like my kids, I cling onto a good thing, trying to make it last longer.

‘I think I’ll be yawning the whole time. Still haven’t managed my jetlag, and my sleep is irregular, so I’m tired all the time.’