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“Careful,” I exclaim, not wanting to see her fall over again. Whenever she does, the sound of her cries makes me want to burn down the whole world just to make her feel better. I step inside properly and scoop her up in my arms, making her laugh happily.
“Hello Dadda,” she says, in-between chewing on her own finger. She then pats my cheek with her wet hand, which is just so nice of her.
“Hello, Deedee,” I say, chuckling and shaking my head. I carry her through to the kitchen, following my nose and ears, the scent of Gabby’s cooking is hard to miss, as are the sounds of the boiling pots and the cooing of our baby son.
Joel is already there in his high chair, gurgling happily as he slams a rattle against the side of the chair over and over again, amusing himself with the noise. Gabby looks around with that radiant smile she always gives me and turns from her cooking, brushing her hands off on her apron as she steps over to us.
“Good day at work?” she asks. It’s a joke, really. This domestic scene isn’t quite as cookie cutter as it looks. I work from home most of the time now, and she’s right there with me in our home office. Gabby just likes to pretend to be a housewife when she’s on maternity leave – the rest of the time she’s an absolute goddess, somehow juggling childcare, cooking, and making sure I don’t make any stupid mistakes now that I’m not in the office anymore.
“Wonderful, darling,” I say, putting on a deliberately exaggerated accent as I kiss her on the lips. “And how have the children been?”
“Messy little pups,” Gabby laughs, stirring the pot of whatever smells amazing on the stove. “Did you get that meeting with Simpsonite?”
“Yes, the paperwork should be through at the end of the week,” I say, taking Deanna still on my hip to lean down and kiss Joel on the forehead. He coos up at me, making Deanna giggle.
“Good. Now, no more work talk for the next hour,” she beams. I see everything I need to know in her eyes, anyway, the way she looks at me every time we close a deal, with total pride and admiration. I thought that would wear off after we’d been together a while, but it hasn’t and it never will. I’m a very lucky man.
“I’ll get the table set,” I say. “Deedee, do you want to help me?”
She nods, scrambling to be put down, and quickly starts running about fetching placemats and putting them on the table. She’s already so helpful and industrious, following her mother’s example. By the time she hits school age, we’re going to have a very good student on our hands. I can’t wait. Just watching her grow and develop already is the biggest gift of my life, and it’s surely only going to get better from here.
“Good girl,” I say, ruffling her hair slightly and making her pout as I finish up with the cutlery. “How long until the food’s ready, love?”
“Not long at all,” Gabby says, without turning. She leans over to test something from a pan on the far burner, giving me an excellent view of her round ass in her jeans. “Is everyone washed up and ready?”
I raise an eyebrow at Deanna and make a scary face, rolling up my sleeves to go and wash my hands. “We’re all ready. We just have to check something in the bathroom,” I say, winking at Deanna. She giggles with joy and runs after me to the sink.
We sit down for dinner all four of us together, Joel just staring at the mushy foods that always seem to end up on the floor, the high chair, his face, and his clothes rather than in his stomach. I look at my family just before we begin, uttering a quick word of thanks in my head for the blessings we have. There have been so many already, and I know there are so many more yet to come.
My beautiful wife. My clever daughter. My happy son.
Has a man ever had any more beautiful gifts than these?
“What are you thinking about, with that smile on your face?” Gabby asks, taking the first forkful of her food with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, looking around at them all again and then winking at her. “Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”
“No, baby,” she says, with a smile, her foot tracing along the side of my calf under the table. “It’s still real. Still, a dream come true.”
“Always,” I tell her, picking up my fork to dig in.
