“That’s what I’m thinking.”
The authorities likely have access to all his electronic files, but my father has decades of paper files. She can dig as much as she likes. I won’t hide anything from my wife.
She links her fingers with mine.
“Are you ready to brave the parentals?” Caroline asks, squeezing my hand.
I smile at the term she’s always used. “Do you think our kids will refer to us as ‘the parentals’?”
“No. I mean, we wouldn’t force separate bedrooms?—”
“Who says? If we have a daughter, absolutely.”
She pinches my sides, and I twist away, laughing. “Ow!”
“We will treat any son or daughter equally.”
“Are you two coming down?” Anne calls from the base of the stairs.
I pull Caroline against me, pressing my forehead to hers. “You know, I never imagined having this again—family, holidays, a future worth planning for.”
Her eyes soften. “Is that what you want? A family?”
“With you? Yes.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Once we’ve found our way back to each other properly.”
She leans up and kisses me softly, but I don’t take the kiss deeper; instead, I call down to Caroline’s mother, “Yes, ma’am, we’re coming!”
But instead of moving, I hold Caroline a moment longer.
This house, with its Christmas lights and cookie-scented air, represents everything I missed growing up—and everything I nearly lost forever. But as Caroline leads me down the stairs, her hand warm in mine, I realize it’s not just her parents’ home we’re experiencing, but the promise of our own.
A home where promises will be kept. Where separate bedrooms are a quaint memory. Where perhaps someday, the patter of small feet will join ours on Christmas morning.
Not today, but someday. Day by day, just as we promised.
The End
