Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The soft hum of the fridge light buzzed behind me, casting a quiet glow over the kitchen.
It was two in the morning, the whole house wrapped in sleep, but there I was sitting on the counter in my robe, Lucky Jr. curled up against my chest with his head tucked under my chin.
He didn’t want water or a snack, he just wanted me.
His little fingers held on tight to the front of my robe like he remembered the heartbeat that carried him for nine months. He always did this when something was off in his sleep; some toddler dream or sound he couldn't name woke him up, and now here we were, chest to chest in the still of night.
I rocked him slowly, pressing a kiss into his hair that smelled like shea butter and baby soap. “You okay now, handsome?”
He didn’t answer. Just gave a soft breath and snuggled in deeper, already drifting again.
That was the thing about motherhood, they never really taught you how loud the quiet could be. How it filled your chest and crept up your throat when you were alone in the middle of the night with a baby who just needed you to hold the world still for a second.
I glanced down at him. His lashes looked like they were drawn on with the thinnest brush, his mouth relaxed now. My heart did that thing again. That slow, aching tug that reminded me no matter how tired I was… this was still the best job I’d ever been blessed with.
Lucky’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You good?”
I turned to find him at the doorway, shirtless, boxers hanging low, rubbing the sleep out his eyes. His voice was thick with sleep but soft, just like he always was when it came to me and our babies.
“Yeah,” I whispered, smiling. “He just needed a little mama time.”
He walked over and kissed my forehead, then brushed a kiss against Lucky Jr.’s curls. “You both did.”
He took him gently from my arms, cradling him like he was still just weeks old, and headed back toward the stairs. I hopped off the counter and followed behind, heart heavy in that good way.
By the time we made it back upstairs, Lucky Jr. was out cold, drool collecting on his daddy’s shoulder. Lucky eased him into bed so carefully you would’ve thought he was made of glass, then pulled the covers up and rubbed his back until he gave that little sleep sigh.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching them, one hand resting over the slight swell that held our next two blessings. My body still felt heavy, three months postpartum and newly pregnant again but my heart? My heart was full to the brim.
When Lucky turned around and saw me still standing there, he raised an eyebrow. “You good, mama?”
“I’m perfect,” I said, walking toward him. “You always make everything feel light, even when it’s not.”
He pulled me into him without saying a word, arms wrapping around my waist like they were made to hold just me. My head fell against his chest, and I let myself breathe in the warmth of him, the steady beat of the man who loved me in every season.
“You still tired?” he murmured against my temple.
I shook my head. “Nah. Not really.”
He grinned. “Wanna go sit outside with me for a minute? I been up since you left the bed.”
I nodded, slipping on a hoodie over my robe and following him down the stairs again.
We stepped out into the backyard, the air crisp with the hush of early morning.
Christmas lights still blinked softly around the patio, and the moon was big and low, casting a glow that made everything feel wrapped in silver.
We sat side by side on the porch swing, our hands locked tight like they always found each other no matter the hour.
“This year went fast,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at me. “And you gave me the best gift I ever got. Twice.”
I laughed softly. “Make that four times. You forgot this belly.”
He grinned, resting his hand on my thigh, right above where our twins were starting to bloom. “Nah. I haven’t forgot. I just haven’t processed it yet. You got me real live daddy’d up, Jream Bleu.”
“You love it.”
He smirked. “I do.”
We sat in the quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that don’t need to be filled. Just two souls who knew how to be still with each other. Then he looked over at me, his voice low and full of that sleepy lover boy charm.
“Promise me something.”
“What?”
“No matter how many kids we have. No matter how many years pass. Don’t ever stop sneakin’ into the kitchen at two in the mornin’. Don’t stop lookin’ like this.”
I smiled, leaning in until our lips met in a kiss that tasted like peace, like forever, like home.
“I promise.”