Aziza yawned, huge and dramatic. “I’m sleepy,” she announced, burrowing into my side.
“Me too. All this growth. It’s hard work being emotionally available,” Kyleigh complained.
I laughed. “You been very available. And in chest pains from that growing heart. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I already am.”
Across the room, Daddy turned the volume up a little on the game. Somebody cheered. Somebody booed. Kids argued about which cousin cheated at Uno.
“Daddy?” Aziza mumbled. Her eyes were at half-mast now.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Next year… can we have Christmas at our house on the hill? And can everybody come?”
I looked at Kyleigh. She met my eyes, then looked at our daughter.
“If your daddy helps clean up, yes.”
“Wow,” I put my hand on my chest, slightly offended.
“What? Welcome to the family.”
I couldn’t even argue. My heart felt too full.
“Aight, then. Next year, we hosting. Tree, lights, the whole circus,” I told Aziza.
“And flamingos,” she mumbled.
“No flamingos,” Kyleigh said automatically.
“Absolutely flamingos,” I countered.
Aziza sighed, content. “Okay.”
Her lashes fluttered closed. Two minutes later, she was out cold, bracelet glinting as her hand relaxed on my chest.
“Yeah, she done,” I said quietly.
Kyleigh watched her, face soft in a way I wouldn’t trade for anything I could buy or build. Then she glanced around the room at the chaos, the TV, the cousins, the plates.
“You wanna take her to lie down for a minute?” she asked.
“I got her.”
I slid one arm under Aziza’s legs, the other behind her back. She didn’t even stir, just tucked her face into my neck on instinct. My chest damn near cracked open.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmured.
I carried her down the hallway to the guest room my parents had set up like a kid sleepover central. Little pallets, extra blankets, nightlight in the corner. I laid her on one of the beds, slipped her shoes off, pulled a throw over her. She sighed, turned onto her side, bracelet clinking once as it settled on the pillow.
“Goodnight, little mama,” I whispered. I brushed a kiss over her curls and stayed there an extra second, just breathing.
When I came back toward the living room, Kyleigh was waiting by the front door, coat over her arm, eyes asking a question without saying anything out loud.
“Porch?” she asked, Max pacing beside her.
