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“I like Peanut.”

“No,” Bridget replied, snickering. “You can call him Peanut but his name is going to be Reginald Lucas Esprit.”

“Aw, we don’t need to name him after me, too,” Luke said.

“Yeah, we do,” she said.

“Peanut Esprit,” Emily said, yelling. She ran away from them, around the side of the house to the backyard, laughing.

“Who is this kid?” Bridget asked, frowning.

“I’ll go after her in case the gate is open. She might decide to dive in the pool.”

“She can swim better than you can,” Bridget called out.

That night in bed, the house quiet, Luke sat up, reading glasses on his nose, a recent addition to his wardrobe. “I didn’t know I’d go blind when I turned forty.”

“God, I hope that’s not true or I’m in trouble,” Bridget replied, massaging lotion into her leg. “Stubby is getting so callused. I guess I’m lucky. I’ve had no trouble with it.”

“It’s because you’re a stoic. I’ve seen you hobbling around, Bridget.”

“One foot in front of the other,” she said, pulling herself into bed. “I’m beat. Maybe baking king cakes after working today wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You should have stopped after the run. But that cake is amazing. I’m having more for breakfast.”

“I baked one to take to Maggie’s Sunday, too.”

He slipped his glasses off and put the book on the nightstand. “Come here.”

Rolling on his side, he reached for her. “I saw you on the street today. I was in the driveway with Pete Hamel, looking at the architectural drawings for his garage when you ran by. He made a comment about that hot girl, and I said, ‘She’s my wife.’ I almost exploded; I was so proud.”

Threading her arms around him, Bridget kissed Luke’s face, his eyes, his cheeks, and then his lips. They held each other for a while, reveling in their love.

“I’m so glad, babe. I’m a mess with this belly and everything else.”

“No, you’re not! You’re adorable. You look exactly the same but with a basketball under your shirt.”

“Luke, you know I love you, right? I don’t say it enough. I just assume you know I love you.”

“I’m so glad. I figured you loved me or you wouldn’t have married me or had another kid with me,” he said, laughing.

They lay together, the baby rolling around against Luke, making him grin.

“You know that you’re my hero, don’t you?”

She hugged him tight, her love for him overflowing. “After what I put you through, I’m so glad to hear that. I’m so sorry I was so mean to you at the beginning.”

“Ha! Forget that, okay? Everything that happened before Emily was born is unimportant.”

“Thank you. I acted like a spoiled teenager.”

“You were practically a teenager, Bridget, that’s why.”

She gently elbowed him, laughing. “I can’t keep my eyes open. I love you, Luke. More than anything on earth.”

She kissed him again and rolled over on her side.

“Love you, too,” Luke whispered.

The End