I laugh, light and breathless, as he pulls me flush against him, biting my shoulder playfully. Somewhere down the hall, Emily, our three-year-old is giggling over something she probably shouldn’t be doing, but we let the chaos continue.
“You know what I’m thinking is a better idea,” he growls, his breath warm against the lobe of my ear. “I’m thinking we put these kids down for an early nap, and I get you all wet right now.”
I turn my head up to meet his gaze. “You think you can get these two down for a nap an hour early? During a rainstorm?”
“I do,” he groans, shoulders back, more confident than ever. “Watch this.” He kisses my forehead gently, then steps to the side, pulling Renee out of the highchair with a kiss before calling for Emily. “Come on girls. Time to listen to the story about the princess again.”
Emily jumps into the air over and over, pig tails swinging as she screams, “Yes, Daddy! I love that story!”
He scoops Emily up in the opposite arm as though both daughters are made of feathers and popcorn. Technically they are, but I couldn’t pull off a double scoop like that.
I smile and follow my little family into the backroom where we’ve added on a bedroom for the girls. It’s a rather large space with soft pink and white quilts, an abundance of stuffed animals, a spot for their embroidered aprons, and the soft scent of lavender from last night’s bath.
Red settles between them, his arm around each of our daughters, their little hands curled onto his shirt like they’re never letting go. “Once upon a time there was a cranky old man, named Grumpelstiltskin. One day, he was riding his motorcycle deep into the woods when he came across the most beautiful girl in all the land.”
Emily gasps like she’s never heard the story before. Our youngest giggles and tucks her face into his chest, copying her sister.
Red keeps going, weaving the tale like he always does. “The man who thought he was too grumpy to love, and the woman who proved him wrong with every laugh, every kiss, every heartbeat.”
I lean back against the doorway, lost in the moment, brushing tears from my eyes. Not of sadness, but tears from the overwhelming fullness that a life with this man has provided.
It’s hard to believe he ever had a violent bone in his body. Nowadays, we spend our time caring for the girls, getting lost in each other’s arms, and selling candles at the farmers’ market on Saturday.
He glances up and smiles, and for a second, the whole world stills, like he too feels the magic of this cabin, of this place, of this wild growing between us.
I wipe my tears and step into the room, curling up beside my family.
And as the rain sings on the roof and his voice carries on, I close my eyes and let myself believe, not in fairytales, but in the truth of this one.
Because I was the girl, he was the grump, and this… this is our forever after.
