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“Fractions,” she says with a weary sigh, making me laugh again. “I’m an artist, okay? The only time I work with numbers is when charging clients,” she mumbles as she reties one of Laura’s shoes.
“Switch?” I ask, lifting my little girl off my shoulders and handing her to Sutton.
“How about we go outside and play for a bit? I could use a homework break,” Sutton says.
“Homework break?” Simon calls out from his spot at the dining room table where he’s been plugging away at his fractions worksheet. He’s next to us in a second, and I swear I can see a trail of dust he kicked up from moving so fast.
“Let’s go,” I tell him, leading my family out to the backyard.
Simon takes Laura’s hand, and they run off to the playground while Sutton and I hang back on the porch.
My beautiful wife rests her elbows against the railing while I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. She leans against me, letting me cradle her in my embrace.
“Love our family,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She smiles, turning her head to kiss the side of my neck. “We love you,” she murmurs, snuggling deeper against me.
We stay wrapped up in each other while watching our kids play in the yard. I never knew I wanted this: the family, the wife, the crazy kids, and the picket fence. Not that we have a picket fence. Yet. It’s on backorder.
But now? I couldn’t picture my life any other way.
Sutton is wildly successful with her design business, and it’s been a joy to see her grow in her skillset and as a person. She has confidence in herself and her abilities, and she’s not afraid to set boundaries and take up space. She’s not afraid to be loved, and neither am I.
Every day with my Sutton is better than the last, which isn’t to say we’ve always had it easy. I just know deep down in my soul that we’ll make it through anything as long as we choose each other every time.
“Thank you for giving me a second chance all those years ago,” I tell her, tightening my hold around her waist.
“Thank you for showing me how to love and be loved,” she replies, her voice soft and sweet like the rest of her.
“You’re too good to me, princess.”
“We’re good to each other,” she counters, resting her head against my shoulder as I rock her back and forth.
“That we are, little flower. That we are.”
