All familiar characters belong to Janet. Olive, Mo, Gunny, and any mistakes, are mine.

"I think it's really hitting me just how lucky I am," Stephanie told me, tipping her head back against my knee so she could aim her statement directly into my eyes.

She once again chose the carpet of our living room as a seat, using my leg as a backrest to lean against just so Olivia and our dogs have extra company in their play. Taking a breather from her game of 'Tag' with our four-legged family members, our baby has been content for the last five minutes to recline into her Mama's torso and pet Gunny and Mo by splaying and retracting her bare baby toes deep in their fur.

I wish I could feel as relaxed as our daughter obviously is, but Steph and I know it's our job to take on all the shit in the world to protect her from it. Unfortunately, I can't protect her forever like I'd prefer to, but I have the privilege of doing so at least until she's old and mature enough to tell me to back off a bit. I won't listen, though I'll be damn proud of her for trying to make me.

"In what ways do you consider yourself lucky, Babe?" I asked, and not because of the Morelli-news I know is forthcoming, I'm genuinely interested in what parts of our life she's satisfied with and what could use immediate improvement.

Olive reached forward and hugged Mo's neck, effectively getting him up from the carpet in front of her and Steph, and into their laps ... which my daughter found hysterical as he gently head-butted her chin in an attempt to get her to play more. He found himself in a temporary headlock instead.

Steph bent her head and kissed Olivia's while she freed Ammo. "It's okay, you guys can run around some more," she told our baby. "We've got all the time you need."

My mind settled even as my gut tightened. I love seeing my women interact, but knowing there's an undercurrent of unease snaking through the emotions on Steph's end ... I can't help but be concerned despite how idyllic our current scene would appear to outsiders looking in on it.

"I'm lucky not only to have you, Olive, and Julie," Steph told me, consoling Gunner as Mo became the momentary center of Olivia's attention, "I'm happy to have survived everything I have just to reach this point in my life."

"Care to explain that?" I asked her.

"I don't have to. You already know Joe was pronounced D.O.A. at the hospital."

"And you're upset about that," I stated, not asked.

"No. I'm upset that he wouldn't admit how crazy he'd become, that he wouldn't see that he could've been more than just a continuation of the family legacy they passed onto him, and I'm annoyed that he may have amounted to something away from the Burg had he gotten his head out of what he was told he was entitled to. His family signed his death certificate long before one was actually needed ... and it pisses me off. He had a shot to be a better kid, man, and then detective, yet he continued to flip-off every opportunity he was given to not become 'A Morelli'. At the end, it seems like he wanted to be just because it was easier than changing and controlling his own behavior."

That wasn't what I was expecting to hear following the news that someone she's unfortunately had to know - or hear disturbing details about - almost her entire life ... is no longer living. I could feel her anger, but it wasn't at me or herself, it was directed at the asshole who could've had it all if he'd put the work in to stop using and abusing people, but he ended up losing everything because he believed whatever he wanted should just be handed to him, saying a 'Fuck you' to anyone who challenged him.

Steph hit the coffin-nail on its head. His family enabled him from the moment he was born until the day that he died. And the arrogance he developed because they allowed him to continue to live under the delusion that he can do no wrong and expect no consequences for it, is what killed him. Not me.

"How do I make this better?" I asked my wife, threading my fingers through the air-drying ends of her ponytail.

"I know you want to," she said, unfolding her legs to get up so she could sit beside me on the couch as Olive ran another lap around Mo. Gunny chose to follow my wife and stay out of harm's way up here on the couch with us. "And I love you even more for trying to always make everything better ... because you do. Every second of every day you make my world better, but this one I have to work through on my own."

"I disagree. We're always here for each other ... that's the deal."

She smiled, putting one hand on my thigh and using the other to scratch behind Gunny's ear, which caused Olive to glance over at him. His hind foot had started thumping in blissful abandon from his sweet spot being concentrated on.

"Ga-ahh!" Olivia shouted, moving faster than I thought the chubby little legs sticking out of her onesie could take her.

With a wave and audible 'Bye-Bye' to Mo, she headed for the couch, us, and more importantly ... Gunny. I snagged my daughter mid-lunge and brought her where she belonged, between her Mama and I.

"Nice try," Steph told me, "but you're not going to use our daughter to make me talk."

"I'm not?" I asked.

Instead of putting her back to the wall for safety's sake, Steph aligned hers along Gunner's body for backup.

"Nope," she told me.

"Where's Mama's 'ON' button, Olive?" I asked my daughter.

My baby looked at me, produced a laugh-squeal, and then went for her Mama's rib cage. "Okay, okay ... I give up!" My wife said, curling her arms around Olivia to bring her in for a squeeze and a kiss. "I'll tell your Daddy anything he wants to know."

"Da ... Da ... Da ..." my baby encouraged.

"What are you thinking or worried about saying?" I asked Stephanie.

"I'm not worried about me or us, I'm concerned about my reaction to people who are going to say you had a hand in Joe's accident."

"I'm a big boy, I don't need to hide behind my wife. If someone has something to ask me or accuse me of, they can talk to me and leave you out of it."

"Now I disagree. I'm always going to be there to defend you, but what if I have questions?" She asked, her blue eyes boring a hole through me despite Olivia's attempts to deconstruct her Mama's ponytail.

"Ask away, Babe. You're the only one I'll answer to."