A/N: Twilight is Meyer's. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks for reading, and for reviewing.

I never thought that I'd write this many chapters... or that the chapters consistently would be this long. I don't know when to shut up. ;) Anyway, thanks for sticking with me. I still have several more chapters to go, and as you probably can tell by now, I will be skipping (sometimes large chunks of) time between chapters to get to them. Sorry about that.

This chapter takes place in January. Lizzie is 6; Masen is 4; Alex is 2 1/2; Bella and Edward are 28.

EPOV

Bella was humming.

I paused in the door of the kitchen to watch her. She was standing at the work island with her back to me. Her movements were graceful, confident in that way she had when she cooked. Her body swayed, just slightly, with her song.

"Driftwood Dreamer."

My heart skipped when I recognized it. She was humming the song I'd composed for our first dance as husband and wife. And even though she didn't like to dance – she thought she was too uncoordinated – she was dancing to our song.

She was killing me. And she had no idea.

I watched her for a minute longer. Normally she sensed my presence long before I was in the same room with her, so it was rare for me to be able to see her this way. I loved catching her in these unguarded moments. She was open with me, but there just was something about the way she moved, the things she did, when she thought she was alone… It got to me like nothing else could.

She got to me like nothing else ever would.

At last I'd had enough. I stepped into the kitchen. Bella stopped humming and went still, cocking her head. I wasn't sure whether she'd heard me or finally noticed my electricity, but she knew that I was there. The moment was over.

Unless I persuaded her to continue.

I moved to her and swept her long hair over her left shoulder. I slipped my arms around her waist from behind and nuzzled her exposed right ear. "Don't stop," I encouraged.

Her head tilted toward me. I could see the corner of her smile as I gently began to sway. She dropped a hand over mine at her waist and let her body move with mine. Quietly, she resumed her humming. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on her shoulder.

After a moment, I turned my head to kiss her throat. Her humming faltered and died under my lips. Her hand lifted to tangle in my hair. Then she gave the side of my head a sharp tap. "I have to finish dinner before Mrs. Varner gets here."

I gave her waist a squeeze and reluctantly let her go. Mrs. Varner would be arriving within a half hour to babysit. Bella was making dinner for her and the kids. And she did need to finish, because I wanted to leave as soon as Mrs. Varner got here.

I was taking my wife on a date.

It sounded ridiculous. But I couldn't wait. We were going to one of Bella's favorite Italian restaurants, where she was sure to smirk over my refusal to order spaghetti. But I knew that my reason pleased her; after having her spaghetti, everyone else's seemed bland. So she would tease me, but she would give me that little smile that let me know that she liked that particular quirk of mine.

Then we were going to the theater to see the movie I'd scored.

We'd seen it once already. Kind of. We'd attended the premiere last month. But we both had been too jittery to actually absorb the film, even though Bella had tried incredibly hard to focus. She hadn't wanted to miss a second. I had focused on her for the same reason; I hadn't wanted to miss a second of her reaction. I'd seen how she had been so excited and proud that she hadn't been able to process what she was watching. She'd practically vibrated in her seat the entire two hours.

I would never forget a moment of that night with her.

Bella's head lifted suddenly. She didn't acknowledge me where I still stood only inches away from her. Instead, her attention was centered on something toward the front of the house. "Masen?" she called. "I hope you don't have your tricycle in here again."

Since it was too cold for the kids to play outside, Masen had been improvising. He'd decided that it was a good idea to bring his outdoor toys indoors. Bella and I had been combating his efforts for days. But I hadn't heard anything incriminating just now. I glanced at her.

Then I heard the telltale response to her warning: a muffled mumble mumble bang from the living room.

My lips curved as I gazed down at her. Her maternal instincts were amazing.

She looked up at me as more sounds reached us. I grinned. "I'll go check."

She smiled and ran a hand down my arm as I stepped away from her. I squeezed her fingers before I moved out of her reach. She was focused on her cooking again by the time I reached the door.

Masen was in the living room. He was dangerously close to my piano with his tricycle. I grabbed it before he could get any closer. He looked sheepishly up at me. "It's cold."

"Yes. But that still doesn't mean you can bring this inside." I picked up the tricycle and started for the front door. Alex and Lizzie peered into the living room at me. Wondering if it was safe to come in, probably. I held the trike up to show them. "Outside toys stay outside," I reminded them firmly.

Lizzie shot Masen a "no kidding" look as Alex studied me gravely. I grinned to myself and stepped outside to set the tricycle on the porch. I'd put it away later.

When I came back in, Alex was in the living room. Masen was heading for the family room. And Lizzie was gone.

I frowned and made my way back to the kitchen. What I found there made me stop in the doorway with a huge smile.

Lizzie was helping her mother put the finishing touches on dinner.

I stood for a moment, watching as Bella patiently showed Lizzie where each ingredient went. Then I turned and went to check on the boys.

Masen was on the family room floor with Forks. They seemed to be playing some strange game that involved rolling on the carpet on their backs. I snickered and left them alone.

Alex was still in the living room. He had made his way to my piano and was contemplating it. All three kids knew that the instrument was off-limits without Bella or me there to supervise. Alex obeyed the rules. But he loved the piano. He gravitated toward it the same way I always did.

So I picked him up and sat on the piano bench with him in my lap. And watched his face light up as I helped him "play" a song.

Bella's voice drifted to me through the chords a minute later. I grabbed Alex's hands to stop him and called to her, "What was that?"

She paused on the stairs. "Mrs. Varner just called. She'll be here in about ten minutes. I'm going to change. Lizzie and Masen are in the family room with Forks."

"Okay."

Alex looked up at me as Bella moved away. "More, Daddy," he requested, trying to pull his hands free from mine. "More."

I guided his hands over the keys and let him mix his own music with the chords I suggested. He took the music very seriously. He frowned over the keys the same way Lizzie frowned over her books. I watched his face as I kept my attention divided between him and his brother and sister as they giggled in the family room.

Less than five minutes later, I heard Bella's footsteps on the stairs. She went straight to the kitchen. I glanced at my watch, then tickled Alex. "Sorry, buddy. I have to go."

He laughed as I set him on his feet. "Bye, Daddy," he said brightly as he ran off to join his siblings.

I headed for the bedroom. "My turn to change," I called from the stairs.

"Okay," Bella replied absently from the kitchen.

Upstairs, I quickly changed into fresh jeans and a white button-down shirt. Then I shaved and slapped on a little aftershave. After a fast glance in the mirror, I grabbed my wallet and my keys and hurried downstairs.

Just in time to answer Mrs. Varner's knock at the front door.

She gave me a once-over as she let me take her coat. "You look very handsome," she commented.

Her amused expression didn't escape my notice. She found it endlessly entertaining to observe how Bella and I interacted with one another – how we never seemed to grow out of our high-school sweetheart stage, as she called it. But I was used to her response to us, so I ignored her reaction and focused on her compliment. "Thank you." I hung her coat in the closet and smiled. "And thank you for babysitting."

"Anytime." She glanced past me. "Your Bella is in the kitchen?"

"Yes, ma'am." I palmed my keys. "I'm going to go warm up the car. Can you let her know I have her coat with me?"

Mrs. Varner smiled. "Of course. Have a good evening," she said slyly as she headed deeper into the house.

I grinned as I grabbed my coat and Bella's from the closet. I tossed mine into the back seat, then draped hers carefully over it. She wouldn't want it until we got to the restaurant.

When the front door opened, I jumped out to open Bella's door for her. She smiled as she climbed in. I raced around to slide back behind the wheel. And we paused to survey one another for the first time since we'd changed clothes.

Bella was wearing jeans, too. But like me, she had paired the casual pants with a nice shirt. The deep blue V-neck sweater she wore caught my attention and held it.

I loved that color on her.

I stared for a moment too long. It didn't matter, though, because Bella was staring a little too long at me, too. She liked my outfit as much as I liked hers. Finally I shook myself and reached over to tuck a lock of her thick, dark hair behind her ear. "You look beautiful," I said sincerely. And I tried not to gawk at the place where her hair curled just slightly over her exposed collarbone.

"You look handsome," she returned. Her fingers worried a small wrinkle in my shirt over my ribcage, then she smoothed the material and returned her hand to her lap. I pulled away from the house and immediately reached over to take her hand in mine as we headed down the driveway.

"That's new."

Bella glanced down as my finger lifted from her hand to skim over the soft material of her sweater. "Yeah," she said. Then she added by way of explanation, "Alice."

"I like it."

Bella smiled to herself and rubbed my knuckles lightly with her thumb. When we eased up to a red light, she reached down to grab her cell phone from her purse. "Before I forget, I want to show you…" She held out the phone to show me a picture. "Jake sent me a new picture of Nick and Adam a few minutes ago."

I glanced over at the phone. Two six-month-old boys gazed back at me. Jake and Ness's first child, a boy named Nicholas, and Rosalie and Emmett's third son, Adam, had been born four days apart. Rose complained about having all boys, but I knew that she didn't really mind. Emmett was ecstatic. And Jacob and Ness were extremely proud of their son.

"Looks like Nick's going to be tall," I remarked.

"Like his daddy." Bella grinned and tucked her phone away again. I considered her reply as I drove. If that was true, I would be looking up at Nick the same way I had to with Jacob. My wife's six-foot-seven best friend was a monster.

"He said Jessica and Mike are doing well," Bella commented after a moment.

I shook my head. Bella had been right about Lauren and Mike Newton when we had bumped into them three years ago in Port Angeles. They had divorced a few months after we'd seen them. And Bella had been right about Jessica and Mike, too. They had married only four months after Mike had divorced Jessica's twin. Surprisingly – to me, at least, since Bella had seemed to expect it – Jessica and Mike were happy together. So far.

"You're always right, aren't you," I stated, shooting her a fond look.

"Usually," she replied.

She grinned over at me as I squeezed her fingers. We fell silent, soaking in the peacefulness of just being together. I stroked her wedding band with my thumb and smiled when I noticed her eyes drift closed. She was enjoying the buzz of our mutual electricity in the confines of the Volvo just like I was. I could feel her body relaxing as she continued to smile without opening her eyes.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant. For a moment, I was still, holding her hand and memorizing her face in the dimming twilight. Finally she raised a brow at me. "We need to eat soon if we're going to make it to the movie."

Reluctantly, I let her hand go and got out of the car. I grabbed our coats from the back seat and hurried around to open her door for her. She shook her head when I offered her coat. "I'm okay," she assured me.

I tucked the jackets over my left arm and offered her my right. She grinned, amused, and slipped her hand through my arm.

We didn't talk much through dinner. Bella baited me with a remark about the spaghetti looking good, then she taunted me when I refused to order it, just like I'd expected. And like I'd anticipated, my non-Bella-made-spaghetti aversion brought out that particular little smile of hers that I adored. But after we ordered, we were relatively quiet. I supposed the silence probably would seem uncomfortable to most people, but for us, it was extremely comfortable.

We didn't have to talk to understand each other.

We sat close together on the same side of the booth and kept constant, casual contact. I would smooth her hair, she would fuss with my shirt, then our hands would find one another and our fingers would twine together for a few minutes before we would break apart, only to touch a knee, a wrist, and find each other's hands again. We split our meals, eating off both plates without discussion. When we finished, I slipped my arm around her shoulders and held her close for a little while before she finally stirred.

"I need to go to the restroom," she admitted.

I kissed her temple before I stood to let her out of the booth. When she was gone, I paid the bill and grabbed our coats. And noticed an elderly couple a few booths over watching me and smiling.

They'd observed my dinner with my wife. They recognized the significance of the silence.

I had a feeling they didn't need to talk to understand each other, either.

Bella returned to find me smiling as I held out her coat for her. "What?" she demanded as she slid her arms through the sleeves.

I glanced at the couple, who were politely pretending not to pay attention to us. "Just thinking about the future." I frowned slightly as I studied her face. She seemed a little jumpy. I cradled her cheek in my palm and found that her skin was heated. "Are you okay, love?"

"Yeah." She reached up to pull my hand away from her face and slid her fingers through mine. "I'm excited."

I relaxed as I walked her out to the car. "I can tell." I closed her door behind her and rounded to the driver's side. "Seems like you'd be bored with the music by now," I teased as I turned the key. "Since you've listened to the soundtrack so many times."

"I never get tired of your music," she retorted. "And seeing your name on the screen? 'Music by Edward Cullen,'" she mused. "Best words I've ever read."

My heart slammed with her devotion. "I can think of a few better."

"Yeah?"

I met her gaze. "The first time I saw you sign your name as Mrs. Bella Cullen."

Her eyes suddenly grew damp. "Jeez," she mumbled, turning her face toward the window. I grinned and focused on my driving to give her a chance to recover. A second later her hand slid into mine. She held on tight. We didn't let go until we reached the theater.

Bella stood off to the side to call Mrs. Varner to check in while I bought the tickets. I glanced over at her repeatedly while I inched my way forward in line. The wind had picked up after the sun had set. Her hair whipped around her face with each gust. But she didn't seem to be cold, so I didn't worry. Much.

She hung up before I made it to the counter. The conversation had been very brief. I figured Mrs. Varner had told her not to worry and to get off the phone and back to our date. When she moved to join me in line, she confirmed just that. "Everything's fine," she said. She looked amused. "Mrs. Varner told me to turn my phone off."

I chuckled. Then my laughter died as I noticed what the last swirl of wind had done.

It was times like this that I wished I could draw like she could. I would sketch her exactly this way. I never wanted to forget how she looked standing there in front of me with her hair wild and windblown… with that single lock clinging to her damp lower lip.

But I had my own artistic medium. I splayed my hands over my thighs and moved my fingers over imaginary piano keys. Bella noticed the movement and grinned to herself. She knew that I was composing. And she knew that it was because of her.

It always was because of her.

When we made it into the theater, I stood back to let her choose the seats. She made her way to the center of the third row from the back. I set our coats and her purse in the seat beside me and immediately turned toward her.

One of our favorite features of our local theater was that it had flip-up armrests. In a move so routine it was automatic, Bella raised the armrest between us and I opened my arm so she could snuggle into my side. I reached down with my free hand to play absently with her fingers where they rested on my knee.

And frowned. "Your hands are cold."

She caught me when I started to reach for her coat to drape it over her. "I'm fine," she assured me.

I tightened my arm around her shoulders and rubbed her hand to warm it. A grin slowly curved my lips as a thought formed. "It will be cold when we leave."

"Yeah."

I nuzzled her hair. "I think we'll both need to shower tonight. Get warmed up."

Bella made a quiet, half-choked sound. I felt her body tense against mine, and I smiled into her hair. When she turned her head to look up at me, I quickly bit back my grin to gaze steadily into her eyes.

She seemed a little embarrassed by her reaction. Probably because of the sound she'd made, a sound I found to be rather sexy. But her expression was firm. "Don't say things like that to me right now. I want to focus."

So did I.

As the theater slowly filled, I toyed with her fingers and her hair. She didn't comment. But she did relax until she was almost limp against me. I smiled and kissed her hair when the lights dimmed. To let us both focus, I forced myself to leave her hair and her hands alone and just hold her as the film started.

Bella never looked away from the screen. And I never looked away from her face.

It was fascinating to me to watch her. Her smiles and giggles at the comedic moments, her tears at the sad or touching scenes… and the sheer pride and love on every inch of her face when she heard the music I'd written.

She was the meaning behind every note.

We sat through the credits so she could see my name scroll through and listen to every bit of the music she could. When the screen went black, she was still for a moment, smiling to herself. Finally she turned her head and pressed a kiss to my chest. "You're incredible, Mr. Cullen."

"Because of you, Mrs. Cullen." I smiled as she shook her head. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." She sat up and stretched. As I held out her coat for her to slip into, she shot me a mischievous grin. "If I don't wear the coat, I'll need a longer shower to get warmed up."

Now it was my turn to make that half-choked sound. Bella laughed at my expression. I hurried to recover. Before I could think of a reply, she tugged on my shirt to straighten it and turned to let me help her into her coat. I bit back a relieved sigh. Her words were going to haunt me the entire way home. I didn't need to look over and see her delicate collarbones and pale skin against that deep blue V-neck during the drive.

In the car, Bella was quiet. She rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes as I drove. A smile curved her lips as she held my hand. I could hear her softly humming the music from the movie. Halfway home, the soundtrack melted into "Clair de Lune," then gradually into "Driftwood Dreamer."

She would be the death of me.

Forks met us at the front door when we got home. He trailed us to the kitchen, where we found Mrs. Varner waiting for us. Her eyes scanned our faces, and she smiled. "You had a good evening."

"Yes, ma'am," Bella replied. "We did."

"Wonderful." Mrs. Varner's eyes grew shrewdly mischievous. "The children are all asleep. Quite a bit of evening left," she remarked causally. "I best be getting home. Things to do."

Bella and I grinned at each other. Mrs. Varner was not a subtle woman. And for that, I was grateful. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off my wife at the moment, so my own subtlety was questionable.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Varner." Bella gave her a quick hug. "I'll see you Monday for your lesson."

"No need to thank me, Bella." Mrs. Varner picked up her purse. "I'll be at the studio a little early Monday."

My wife exchanged free art lessons for babysitting. It worked out well, because Mrs. Varner didn't want paid to look after the kids, and Bella didn't like charging her for lessons. "That's fine," Bella said. "Good night, Mrs. Varner."

"Good night, Bella." Mrs. Varner shot us a pointed look as she headed for the front door. I bit back a laugh as Bella rolled her eyes. Then I walked after Mrs. Varner to escort her out.

At the door, Mrs. Varner let me hold her coat for her, then she turned to look back at me. "Your Masen is quite a handful."

"Yes, ma'am, he can be. I'm sorry if he gave you any trouble—"

She waved that off. "He was fine. But he kept the others running all night. They should sleep very soundly." Her eyes glinted. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Without another word, she stepped outside and made her way to her Buick.

I grinned to myself as I watched her drive off. As soon as she was gone, I headed directly for the kitchen. I found Bella taking a sip from a glass of orange juice as she crossed from the refrigerator to the work island. She glanced down as she lowered the glass. Forks nosed her waist, sniffing interestedly. She waved him away with a frustrated mutter. Then her head lifted and her eyes landed on me. And she froze.

I stared into her trapped eyes. Slowly, I looked down at Forks where he sat close by her feet, then my gaze lifted to her face again. She kept her eyes carefully locked on her glass on the counter.

She knew that I knew what the husky's interest meant. Her reaction left no doubt.

"Did you take a test?" I asked quietly.

She poked at her glass and shot me a look from the corner of her eye. "Maybe."

There was nothing in the world at that moment but her. "And?"

She sighed softly. Then she turned to face me and smiled. "We're filling that last bedroom."

I stared at her for a second. When her words finally sank in, I was across the room in an instant. She laughed as I wrapped her up in my arms and lifted her carefully off her feet. "Four?" I whispered into her hair.

Her arms were tight around me. "Four," she whispered back.

"I love you."

She squeezed me gently. "I love you."

For a minute longer, I just held her against my chest. Finally I adjusted my hold so I was cradling her. She smiled as I turned to let her grab her glass of juice. Then I carried her into the family room and sat on the couch with her in my lap.

She leaned away from me only long enough to set her glass on the coffee table. She burrowed into me when she turned back. I ran one hand up and down her arm and pressed my other palm over her currently flat belly. Her hand slipped over mine on her stomach. I couldn't contain a shiver when her fingers set up an absent rhythm, stroking from the back of my wrist to my fingertips and back again. She kissed the corner of my jaw when she felt the tremor roll through me. I could see her lips curve when she pulled back and I flexed my hand over her belly.

For a moment, we were silent, letting the news sink in. At last I asked simply, "Doctor?"

"Monday."

"Good." I squeezed her arm with my next thought. "Were you sick at the restaurant?"

She toyed with one of my fingers. "A little."

My mind flashed on her jittery, overheated appearance when she'd emerged from the restroom after dinner. I felt like an idiot for not realizing. "I wish I'd known."

Bella smiled and reached up to smooth my hair back from my forehead. "You couldn't have gone in with me, anyway," she reminded me soothingly.

"True." Although I may have, if she had been the only one there. Her smile grew amused when she read my intent. She focused on stroking the back of my hand again. I studied her for a moment.

"You were going to tell me tonight, weren't you," I stated.

"Yes."

I recalled her sigh when I'd guessed the news. She had wanted to tell me, but not like that. "I'm sorry I ruined the surprise."

She cupped my cheek in her palm and skimmed her thumb over my cheekbone. "You didn't."

We gazed at one another. After a pause, I asked, "How?"

Bella blinked at me. "What?"

"How were you going to tell me?"

Her eyes abruptly lowered to my hand on her tummy. She picked at my fingers again. She was embarrassed. "It's silly."

I lifted my hand from her arm to run it through her hair. "Tell me."

"Well…" She studied my hand under hers. "I was going to bring you up to the empty bedroom—"

"Show me." Her head shot up. I smiled at her expression. "Show me the way you had planned."

She hesitated, considering. I stared into her eyes for a moment. Finally her lips curved. "Okay."

I let her go so she could slide off my lap. When she was standing, she leaned down to grab a handful of the front of my shirt. I grinned widely and let her tug me up off the couch and lead me up the stairs.

She didn't let go until we were standing together in the middle of the empty bedroom. There, she turned to face me and smiled timidly, still a little embarrassed to be explaining her plan. "I figured you would know as soon as I brought you here," she said. "But since you usually don't interrupt me…" She motioned toward a large picture frame that was leaning against the wall with its back to us. "I was going to ask you to hang that over the crib."

I glanced toward the crib. It wouldn't have made me think twice to see it here; it was Alex's, moved here after he recently had graduated to the "big boy bed." But I was insanely curious about the picture. And I was determined to follow through with every step of Bella's plan to see how she had intended her confession to play out, so I moved to the frame to do as she asked.

As I picked up the frame, I heard her open the closet door. I didn't look back, playing along as I carried the picture to the crib. When I finally turned the frame around to look at the artwork, I froze. My heart stopped as I stared.

My wife had done a perfect sketch of Lizzie, Masen, Alex, and Forks. They were lined up, looking interestedly down at the same thing.

The baby.

My eyes grew damp as I realized what the sketch would look like hanging over the crib. Our three kids and our dog would be peering down into the crib. Watching the newest member of the family sleep.

For a minute, I could only stare. Then, slowly, I set the frame in the crib and turned to face my wife.

And swallowed hard as the tears slid down my cheeks.

She had changed while my back had been to her. Her sweater had been replaced by a blue T-shirt. And over her belly were three sets of little handprints in red, yellow, and orange paint.

Bella's own eyes were brimming when I met her gaze. She smiled a watery smile. When she opened her arms, I crossed the room and wrapped her up in my own. Her arms constricted around me as I tried my best to make her more a part of me than she already was.

"That wasn't silly," I told her as I fought back my tears. "That was…"

She squeezed me gently as my voice grew choked and I trailed off. Her own voice was thick when she replied, "You almost caught me on Wednesday."

I smiled into her hair. I'd walked into her studio unexpectedly that day and found her washing paint off the kids' hands. She'd managed to sidetrack me so I didn't ask too many questions about what they'd been painting.

Slowly, I leaned back to look down at her. I used my fingertip to trace the handprints over her tummy. She smiled and reached up to wipe the remnants of my tears from my cheeks. After a moment, I cradled her face in my hands and smoothed her own tears away with my thumbs. I leaned down to press my forehead to hers and stare into her eyes.

"I love you," I whispered.

Her fingers looped around my wrists. "I love you," she whispered back.

I continued to stroke her cheekbones with my thumbs as I covered her lips with mine. She responded instantly, slipping her hands up my arms and into my hair. We didn't break apart until we had to gasp for air. Even then, I kept my mouth hovering over hers.

"You're not cold anymore," I murmured against her lips.

I could feel her smile. She knew exactly what I meant. "No," she agreed. "But I don't think I'll be able to relax tonight without taking a shower."

My heart sped. "Then I'll have to make sure that happens."

She rhythmically mussed and smoothed the hair at the nape of my neck. "You will, hm."

"I promised to take care of you," I reminded her.

"I suppose I did promise to let you."

I burrowed my right hand under her hair to hold her head close and let my left hand glide down her arm to slip between us and flatten over her belly. My fingers curled into her side as I swore, "I will always take care of you."

Her hand twisted into my hair. I felt her breathing pick up just before she yanked me into another kiss. But she broke away after a minute to lean back and look up at me. I watched her eyes soften as she smiled. Her hands slid forward to frame my face. For a moment, we gazed at one another. Then I bent to sweep her up into my arms and carried her down the hall to our bedroom. She giggled breathlessly and grabbed a fistful of my shirt. Her eyes were knowing on my face when she felt my heart slamming under her hand.

When I set her on the bed and asked her not to move, she looked like she may protest. But she bit at her lower lip instead and promised to remain still as I went to check on the kids. I returned quickly and gathered the baby monitors to line up on the bathroom counter. As I grabbed our pajamas and towels, I glanced back to find her watching me. She hadn't moved. My wife never broke a promise.

Neither did I.

I moved to her and carefully lifted her into my arms again. She grinned up at me, amused. But I was going to take care of her. And she was going to let me.

Just like we'd promised.