Chapter Twenty
Jennifer
I fling my arms around Fletcher's neck while my feet dangle above the floor.
I kiss every inch of his face while the kids grin and giggle.
When I finally step back onto the floor, I'm crying and laughing at the same time.
Fletcher pulls out a handkerchief to dab my eyes dry---and he doesn't even flinch when I blow my nose like a foghorn.
Fletcher seems baffled by my behavior, and I don't blame him. But his confusion swiftly melts into a sweet smile as he brushes his thumb across my cheek. "Hush, love, don't cry."
"They're happy tears. I know it's silly, but I just---I never expected this." My voice catches as I gaze at the children's faces, full of so such hope. "I thought I'd ruined everything, but you guys showed me how much I love this family and want to be a part of it."
Fletcher sets me down, clasping my hand as he turns toward the children. "I think it's time we all went home. Don't you?"
"Yes, definitely." Home. That word has never felt more right.
Henry claps and whoops. "Can we get ice cream on the way? To celebrate?"
"It's not even dinner time yet," Fletcher says, but his stern tone doesn't match the smile tugging at his lips.
"This is definitely an ice cream occasion," I counter, earning whoops from the kids. "I'll even treat everyone including the grandparents. I'll let them know by text."
"Why not caramel fudge ice cream cake instead?" Charlotte asks hopefully. "We could eat it at home."
"That sounds perfect," I agree. "But I suspect Henry will get ice cream cake all over his face."
The boy in question grins. "Yeah, I think so too."
As I gather my purse and the few things I had unpacked, Amelia approaches me hesitantly. She's hanging back from the others with her arms crossed in the protective stance I've come to recognize. "Please don't leave us again, Jennifer."
"Never, ever again." I give her a quick squeeze. "You have my word. It would take a tornado to tear me away from you guys."
Fletcher looks at me, though he speaks to the children. "Well, what are we waiting for? Ice cream cake awaits!"
As we drive toward the ice cream parlor, the kids all start singing a kid-friendly pop song. Even Josh gets into the fun. The ice cream shop is about to close by the time we get there, but the owner takes pity on us. He gives us a ready-made cake that looks absolutely scrumptious.
Once we're back at home, we enjoy our celebratory treat. The children don't make any messes at all, which seems like a miracle sent down straight from heaven. Now that they have full tummies, they all head for the rooms and crawl into bed, falling asleep quickly.
The grandparents returned to their homes.
Fletcher and I abscond to our room and fall asleep before we can even think about making love.
For the next five weeks, we take time to get used to the new dynamics of our family. It's wonderful.
Today, Fletcher makes pancakes for the whole family. The kitchen smells like butter and syrup, and the morning sunlight streams through the windows, turning everything golden. It's Saturday, which means no rushing around for school or work. Just us, together. Our little family.
"Careful with that batter," I warn as Henry tilts the mixing bowl at a dangerous angle. "Your dad will have a fit if we have to clean the ceiling again."
"That was one time," Fletcher protests, flipping a perfectly golden pancake with a dramatic flourish. "And it was your fault for suggesting we add food coloring."
"Red pancakes were cool," Josh says, not looking up from his book. Even at breakfast, that boy has his nose buried in something educational.
Fletcher leans forward with that sneaky glint in his eyes that means he's about to give the children a whopper of a tall tale.
"Did I ever tell you lot about the time when I was just a boy and my paper airplane flew around the world twice?
Before landing back in my hand with postcards from twelve different countries? Would you like to hear the story?"
The kids' lean forward, entranced by his wacky story.
I pour coffee into Fletcher's mug, letting my fingers brush against his while I hand it to him. Six weeks of being officially together, and my heart still does a little flip whenever we touch.
"Thanks, pet," he murmurs, his voice still morning-rough in a way that makes my toes curl.
Charlotte appears in the doorway, her hair a tangled mess. She rubs sleep from her eyes. "Are there chocolate chips in them?"
"Naturally," Fletcher answers, as if chocolate-less pancakes are an absurd concept. "What kind of tyrant do you think I am?"
Charlotte grins and slides onto her usual seat at the table.
The domesticity of this moment gives me a lovely tingle.
I can't believe how easily I've slipped into their lives, how normal it is to be standing here in pajama shorts and Fletcher's old t-shirt, helping serve breakfast to these children I adore.
"Where's Amelia?" I ask, noticing our eldest is missing.
Josh shrugs. "Probably still asleep. She was up late texting with her friends."
Amelia shuffles into the kitchens, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
Charlotte clucks her tongue. "Ooh, you're in big trouble, Amelia. No texting during or after dinner, remember?"
"That doesn't apply to me. I'm the oldest, so I get special perks."
Fletcher and I exchange a look, then he turns on his Big Daddy voice. "You know that isn't true, pet. No texting before or after dinner. If any of you lot disobey my command, your texting privileges will be revoked permanently."
Josh screws up his mouth. "Being a kid sucks."
"No bad language. Remember the rules." Fletcher squints at Josh. "No exceptions."
Becoming a parent so swiftly has been a whirlwind, and learning the ropes in my own new family is much harder than I expected.
I catch Fletcher's eye again, and this time his expression softens.
Being the disciplinarian while also trying to maintain the romantic connection between us is a delicate balance we're both still navigating.
Before I realize it, summer break has arrived.
Fletcher strolls over and drapes his arm casually around my shoulders. "So, what's the plan for this first day of summer break, then? Any brilliant ideas? You'll be alone with the children all day long while I'm at work."
"I thought the kids and I might go to the community pool," I suggest, pouring more orange juice for Henry who's already demolished his first glass. "It's supposed to hit ninety degrees today."
"Swimming!" Henry punches the air, accidentally knocking his fork onto the floor.
I bend to retrieve it, narrowly avoiding a collision with Fletcher who has the same idea. Our heads bump gently, and we both laugh. These little moments still feel like magic.
"Sorry, love," he murmurs, his fingers brushing mine as he hands me the fork.
"Swimming is sooo boring," Amelia declares, finally joining us at the table. Her hair is gathered into a messy bun, and she's wearing the oversized T-shirt she always sleeps in. "We should do something really based to celebrate not having to go to school."
"How about the pool at the rec center?" I suggest, pouring her a glass of orange juice. "It's cool. Literally."
"Ha-ha." She plays it cool, but I catch the hint of a smile. Amelia's been warming up to me more every day, our relationship strengthening like a tender seedling finally getting enough sunlight. "But the rec center is for old people like you and Dad."
"What would you recommend, then?" Fletcher asks, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of her.
He deftly ignored Amelia's old-people remark.
She shrugs, drowning her breakfast in syrup. "I dunno. Maybe the new adventure park? They have zip lines and stuff."
I think my eyes are literally bulging. "I don't think your father would like that."
The man I adore slides his arms around my waist from behind. "You are correct, love. High-speed, high-flying acrobatics are not on the menu."
Despite the children's disappointment, we all come up with some genuinely kid-friendly ideas for having fun today. We settle on two adventures---the Strategic Air Command & Aerospace Museum, and the Durham Museum. Both establishments offer plenty of hands-on fun.
By the time Fletcher leaves for work, the children are so excited that we head for our first destination right away, ordering breakfast through a drive-through window at a local fast-food joint.
Now it's time for today's adventure.
The Strategic Air Command & Aerospace Museum turns out to be a perfect choice.
The kids race from exhibit to exhibit, their enthusiasm infectious as they explore everything from vintage aircraft to space capsules.
I trail behind them, smiling as I watch Henry pretend to pilot a fighter jet while making elaborate whooshing sounds.
"Look, Jennifer!" Charlotte calls out from across the room. "This plane is older than you!"
"Thanks for that reminder," I call back, earning snickers from Josh who's studying a display about the history of flight with his usual intensity.
Even Amelia seems genuinely interested, though she tries to play it cool as she examines the cockpit of a restored bomber. I catch her taking a selfie when she thinks no one's looking.
"This is actually pretty awesome," she admits grudgingly when I join her.
After we've explored the rest of the exhibits, we drive to our next destination---the Durham Museum.
It's a completely different experience from the aerospace museum.
This converted train station offers a grandeur that immediately captures all of us.
The soaring ceilings and restored art deco details make me feel like I've stepped back in time.
"Whoa," Josh breathes, his neck craned back to take in the massive chandelier. "This place is lit."
Keeping up with the slang of the younger generation gives me a headache. But fortunately, Josh tells me that "lit" means something is really good.
Henry immediately gravitates toward the working soda fountain. "Can we get ice cream? Please? I promise I won't ask for anything else today."
"You literally just had breakfast two hours ago," I remind him, but I'm already calculating whether we have time for a treat.
The museum's interactive exhibits prove to be just as engaging as the aircraft displays.
Charlotte becomes fascinated with the old-fashioned general store, carefully examining every vintage product on the shelves.
Amelia finds herself drawn to the fashion exhibit, though, the expression on her face tells me she's genuinely interested rather than just humoring me.
"These dresses are actually pretty cool," she admits, running her fingers lightly over a display case containing a flapper dress from the 1920s. "Can you imagine wearing something like this to school?"
"You'd certainly make an impression," I laugh, imagining Amelia's dramatic entrance to her high school hallway.
By the time we come home, the children are yawning and need a nap. Even Josh and Amelia are sleepy. I doze on the sofa, rousing only when I hear Fletcher's car coming up the drive. As the front door clicks shut, my eyes flutter open, and Fletcher leans over me for a kiss.
Oh yes, I love my life.