“Hey,” she says, breathless. “You really didn’t have to come.”
“I wanted to,” I reply, stepping inside.
The scene is just as chaotic as I expected. Meadowclutches her towel, red-faced and wailing at a pitch that could shatter glass. At the table, Noah glares at his broccoli like it’s personally offended him, while Charlotte juggles a handful of pajamas and a sippy cup.
I drop to one knee in front of Meadow, softening my voice. “Hey, Princess. What’s got you so upset?”
She pauses mid-wail, blinking at me, but then she remembers her grievances and starts up again, even louder. “Don’t wanna wear pajamas!” Her lower lip trembles, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Pajamas are the worst,” I agree solemnly, glancing up at Charlie with a wink. “But bedtime stories are the best.”
Meadow’s eyes briefly light up before suspicion returns. “No! No pajamas!” She pulls the towel tighter like it’s a shield against the idea.
“How about a deal?” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “You get into your PJs, and I promise you the best story ever. I’ll even do all the voices.”
She hesitates, her little brow furrowed in contemplation. Before she can decide, Noah pipes up, frustrated. “Do Ihaveto eat the broccoli? It’s gross!”
I glance over at him, seeing the broccoli standoff. “Tell you what, buddy,” I say, balancing between Meadow’s tantrum and Noah’s broccoli battle, “if you finish it, you get to pick the story tonight. Deal?”
Noah grumbles, but finally stabs the broccoli and takes a tiny, dramatic bite, grimacing the whole time.
“Good job, Noah,” I say, before turning back to Meadow. “So, what do you say, Princess? Pajamas, then stories?”
She’s still sizing me up, her grip on the towel firm. I can see the wheels turning in her little mind, deciding whether she trusts me enough to keep my promise.
Charlotte steps in, her voice soft but tired. “Honey bee, let’s get into your PJs, okay? Then story time.”
Meadow’s lip quivers, but instead of bursting into tears, she lets out a small defeated sigh. “Only if Jake reads the story,” she concedes, looking at me with big, watery eyes.
I shoot Charlie a grin as she quickly helps Meadow into her pajamas. “Deal.”
Once she’s dressed, I lift Meadow onto my shoulders, drawing a few giggles. As we head upstairs, I hear Charlotte let out a quiet sigh of relief. Noah, still grumbling, shuffles up to his room to get ready.
Getting Meadow into bed isn’t as easy as I hoped. She squirms and protests, complaining about the covers, and at one point, throws herself onto the floor in frustration. With a lot of patience and coaxing, she finally settles, clutching her favorite stuffed unicorn.
Noah arrives with a stack of books, each one thicker than the last. “You said I could pick the story,” he reminds me, holding up a book that will take hours to read.
I chuckle, ruffling his hair. “How about we save that one for the long weekend and pick something a little shorter?”
He pouts but eventually hands me a different book. I settle in with them on Meadow’s bed, putting on all the silly voices. But even as I read, Meadow fidgets, scrunching her face up. “No, not like that! You’re doing it wrong!”
I laugh and adjust my voice, deeper and more dramatic, and that seems to satisfy her for now. She’s testing, the way little kids do when they’re figuring out how far they can go. Maybe it’s her way of checking if I’ll still be here when the story’s over—if I’m someone she can count on.
After the story, I close the book and look at the two sleepy faces beside me. Noah’s already half-asleep, but Meadow’s still fighting it, her eyes fluttering as she tries to stay awake. It’s damn near the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“More stories tomorrow?” Meadow yawns, her tiny fist rubbing at her eyes.
“You got it, Princess,” I reply, brushing her hair back. She finally settles, her breathing evening out.
I stand, feeling a mix of contentment and something deeper—something that feels a lot like belonging. This house, hectic and vibrant, is everything my condo isn’t. It’s not quiet or neat, and it sure as hell isn’t simple. But it feels alive. It feels like a place where love happens, even in the middle of broccoli standoffs and bedtime battles. And that’s something I didn’t even know I was missing. Not until them.
As I turn to take Noah to his room, I spot Charlotte at the door, leaning against the frame with a soft smile.
“I’ll tuck her in,” she whispers, stepping in. I nod and head with Noah to his room, pulling his covers back.
“You did good, Jake,” he mumbles, barely coherent as he snuggles under his covers.
“Thanks, buddy.” I smile. “Sleep tight.”
