Page 72 of Through the Storm

Rebecca leans back. “Okay, but statistically you know that baby is getting a football at some point.”

“What if he wants to be a poet?” Ella blurts.

Caroline and Rebecca are doing their damnedest to not burst out laughing too. I crack first, and then they do too.

“I’m serious!” Ella insists.

“I know,” I say gently. “I just… I kind of love that you care this much.”

Her expression softens. “Of course I care. I love him already. And I don’t want him boxed in,” she says quietly.

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I know. He won’t be.”

At that exact moment, Jack steps out of his office with a mug of coffee and stops short. He takes in the disaster on his table. The color swatches. The clipboards. Danny chewing something he absolutely shouldn’t be. “Well, I see you ordered a couple of things, Ella.” He grins. “Make sure you chose the right color palette. I know the baby’s whole future depends on it.”

“Dad! Stop it.”

Jack nods once at his sister. “You drive down from Boston for this?”

“Of course,” Caroline says. “And I brought cookies. I saved some for you.”

“For that, I’ll go refill your tank. But you can’t drive back tonight. It’s not safe.”

“I know, Jack. I’ll leave tomorrow after you take me to brunch.”

Jack nods, already turning away, and disappears back into his office like this interaction has been efficiently logged and handled.

Rebecca stares after him. “Oh. So this is genetic.”

“What is?” Ella asks.

“I think,” Caroline adds diplomatically, “she means the Winters men being excellent brothers.”

“Oh yeah,” Ella says easily. “Their love language is acts of service.”

I smile. Ella’s family is incredible. I really do love that for her. But watching her dad adore her so instinctively, so unquestioningly…yeah. It stings a little bit.

My dad has never made me feel that easy to love.

I’ve spent so much of my life trying to earn love that I don’t think I actually know what unconditional love looks like. What if I don’t know how to give it?

The thought follows me more often these days than I’d like to admit.

“Right,” Rebecca says, turning back to Ella. “Quick question. Have you ever filled your own gas tank?”

Ella rolls her eyes. “We have a system in which each sibling specializes in something, okay? And gas tanks are not my specialty.”

Rebecca snorts. “Sure. That doesn’t sound codependent at all.”

“Well, we don’t care, it works for us. So shut it.” Ella shrugs.

Rebecca circles back, “Anyway. Fine. Bears.” She narrows her eyes. “But if people bring football onesies because all the potential dads are football players…”

Ella opens her mouth.

“We let them,” Rebecca finishes. “Because the baby does not care.”

I smile. “That works for me.”