Page 133 of War

“Seeing as how we’re stuck together for the next however many years?—”

I glare at her and she blows me a kiss.

“I have a present for you.”

Frowning, I tilt my head. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be doling out the presents today?”

“Let me go first.” She turns to our kids. “You guys want to show Daddy his surprise?”

I look from her to each kid, confused.

When Brayden points at the words on his shirt, I read them aloud. “Big brother.”

“Now me,” Josie says, pointing at hers.

“Big sister.” Warmth blooms in my chest at the pure joy radiating from her. I read Scarlett’s next, and that’s when it dawns on me. “Did we get the final decree from the court? Is it official? Josie’s ours?”

Last week, the judge approved the adoption, though we’re still waiting on the paperwork. We celebrated with a pizza night followed by a marathon of all theZombiemovies. Then we slept in the living room in a fort Bray and I made.

Josie giggles. “Read Scarlett’s shirt again.”

“Big sister,” I say aloud, brow furrowing. “Wait, you’re the big sister.” I point at Josie. “Not Scarlett.”

Ava bites that lip of hers and shakes her head. “Not anymore.”Then her smile turns mischievous. “Scarlett’s been promoted to big sister too.”

My heart takes off at a sprint as all the pieces fall into place. “We’re having a baby?”

She nods as tears fill her beautiful green eyes. Eyes that feel like home to me. They’re the color of the treesoutside my first home in Canada, the color of Christmas—the first holiday we spent together as a family. They’re a color so hauntingly similar to that of the eyes of the first woman I ever loved—my mother.

In that moment I pray to any deity that can hear me that our child gets those eyes. Then I fall to my knees at my wife’s feet and press my cheek to her stomach. “Hi, baby. I’m your daddy.”

Stroking my hair, Ava smiles down at me. “He or she is just a little bean, Ty. I don’t think they can hear anything.”

I gaze up at my wife, knowing we can’t always see or hear the ones we love, but we can feel them.

I can feel my child. I can feel his or her spirit. This is the first moment I’ll spend with our child, and somehow I know my mother is here with us too. And Ava’s sister.

The ones we love never really leave. They’re always with us, even if it’s just in our hearts.

“I love you, Ava Warren. Happy Mother’s Day.”