I haven't published or updated a story in over a year and a half. I've had major writer's block and have yet to finish anything that isn't crap. But I fell in love with Young and Hungry and managed to come up with this today, so maybe I'm back...? Fingers crossed!

It's been a long day, he decides as the elevator finally arrives on the penthouse floor. It had been a whirl of meetings, and questions, and phone calls, and he's barely had ten minutes of peace or solidary since his alarm went off this morning. If employees hadn't continuously dropped by his office to wish him a happy birthday, he would have honestly forgotten what today was. He's immensely grateful there isn't a big party or celebration this year.

He feels unsteady on his feet, and can't make it through the front door soon enough.

"I'm home," he calls out, dropping his bag against the couch with an echoing thud. It isn't until after he sheds his jacket and tie—haphazardly tossing both of the expensive garments to the ground—that he realizes the spacious loft is void of any noise, particularly noting the way nobody greets him at the door the way they normally do. "Hello? Girls, you home?"

He's pulling out his phone to call his wife when the woman of his dreams jumps out from behind the counter, grinning at him. "Hey, honey," she says, her tone carefully lined with innocence while her eyes sparkle brightly with mischief. He loves this playful side of her, and after nearly four years of marriage, it's a side he knows well. "How was your day?"

"Exhausting," he sighs, momentarily forgetting about whatever she's planning as he plops down on the sofa. His head leans against the cushion and his eyes shutter closed. "It's so good to be home." There must be something in his voice that alerts her of his weary mood because he feels the cushion shift as she sits next to him. They move until his head rests in her lap and her fingers begin to absently comb through his hair.

"Is everything okay?" Her concern warms his heart, and he can already feel his mood beginning to stabilize. She's his own personal drug of choice, and nothing can compare to this blissful high he experiences whenever he reminds himself that she chose him. She wasn't coerced, she didn't settle. He's the one she allowed herself to open up to. It seems like a lifetime ago.

He nods, leaning into her touch. "Just a long day," he waves in dismissal, deciding it doesn't matter anymore. He's home now, and decides to leave work at the office. Catching her hand in his, he opens his eyes and stares into hers. "How was your day?"

That grin—the one that testifies of trouble—begins to emerge again. "Oh, it was fine. Nothing significant happened, really."

"Uh-huh," he hums, not believing her for a second. He's actually kind of impressed she's not babbling away, attempting to distract him from whatever he's not supposed to have caught onto, but she remains silent. "Where's my other girl?" he asks, having a feeling there's a co-conspirator involved in this and he's almost positive he knows who joined the dark side.

Her gaze softens with undeniable love, and he thinks motherhood suits her wonderfully. It's something he's known since that unforgettable doctor's appointment all those years ago where they heard their daughter's heartbeat for the first time and something that has been confirmed every day since.

"She decided to completely boycott her nap today," she informs him, rolling her eyes in an exasperated way that doesn't diminish the love shining in her expression, "and then fell asleep on the kitchen floor while I was making a late snack before dinner. Come on, I know this'll make you feel better." She pulls him off the couch, and leads him to the kitchen, and sure enough, there's his daughter, stubbornly laying against the tile instead of her 'big girl' bed that cost more than the first paycheck he received. Focused on the intoxicating movements of chest rising and falling with every breath, he doesn't realize his wife's hand slipped out of his until he feels something crack and then splatter against his head.

As soon as he registers that there's a raw egg leaking down his face and hears the laughter of his wife and daughter while they high-five each other in victory, all chaos breaks loose. As if she planned a massive food fight—and let's be honest, she probably did—his wife left all kinds of ingredients out on the counter, and he grabs a bowl of flour before he takes cover behind the wall.

They run around the first floor of the penthouse, ducking behind furniture as flour, eggs, and chocolate chips get thrown every which way. It's exactly what he needed after a lousy day at the office, and he hopes his wife can read the gratefulness in his eyes as he dumps an entire bowl of sugar over her head in revenge.

"Happy birthday, Daddy," his daughter tells him later, when they're all passed out on the floor, their clothes covered in messes. They are breathing heavily and laughing quietly and all in desperate need of baths and his daughter leaves a chocolate kiss on his cheek. His wife echoes the sentiment as she chastely presses her lips against his, being mindful of their daughter in the room, and his hands absently cradle her swollen belly, feeling the unborn life kick against his fingers in greeting. It's a glorious feeling, being absolutely content with his life—he has a wonderful wife he's so completely in love with, a sweet daughter who has his nose and her eyes, and another baby on the way.

Everything is perfect.

"I love you, Josh," Gabi breathes against his mouth, giving him another quick kiss, and then she makes a joke about how many chocolate chip cookies they could have made without the mess. He watches as she teases their daughter about something he doesn't quite catch, listening to the sweet melody of their laughter mingling, and he's sure he wouldn't change a thing if given the chance.

The moment was forever shattered by his unforgiving alarm clock, and Josh laid in bed for a long time, trying to hold onto the dream he desperately wished was reality. He'd been having these dreams almost daily since his intoxicating chef ran off to Japan for three weeks with her boyfriend, and it was like seeing glimpses of a life that wasn't quite meant to be.

If Caroline hadn't changed her mind about their engagement, or if Gabi's pregnancy test hadn't been negative, or if he hadn't hired Cooper, maybe things could have turned out differently. Maybe they would have worked through the complications and found a way to be together. Or maybe not. Maybe they were always destined to merely be friends, and he was holding onto a fantasy that was never meant to come true.

Josh finally rose for the day, deciding that it was pointless to wonder. It was unlikely he would ever get the chance to find out if her heart longed for the same future as his. He'd already lost her.

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