S ummer in the City is colorful, vibrant, and exciting. Then again, the whole year since Logan got down on one knee and proposed to me has been that way, starting with our wedding in April. It rained the entire time on the yacht down the Hudson River, and we have fabulous shots of him carrying me in my dress, both of us soaked to the bone, but I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world .

It was perfect—absolutely perfect in every way .

Now it’s three months after our wedding, a year since that surprise proposal, and we’ve moved into the Paisley Center of the Arts. You’d think it’s just a cultural center for the arts, but you’d be wrong! Right up top is the penthouse suite, our together home with the children full-time and a view of Lady Liberty out in the harbor .

Yes, we have Becca and Pierce full time. Turns out that Miriam fell for an older man during her Happy Divorce trip she took to Paris last year and has given up her shared custody of the children. At first, she kept in contact with them, brought them fancy gifts from the heart of Paris, things they never played with or cared about. Talk about clueless. Eventually, she stopped video calling them and now barely sees them .

At first I was sad for them. I mean, their own mom didn’t want them. But little by little, she made it clear what kind of person she is, and now I have a full and complete picture. She only got pregnant for the money. She got what she wanted out of Logan, and it’s actually better this way. It’s better that they be with us full-time, caring for them, giving them a stable, happy home than going back and forth with Miriam picking them up every other day like Cruella De Vil picking up puppies to be made into coats .

Becca and Price don’t even seem to care. They rather seem to love their new life .

At the moment, I prepare their afternoon snack right before we head outside for a walk in the park. It’s 2 o’clock, so Logan is due home soon. Early afternoon is the time he comes home now every day to be with me and the kids. Even though he still works his ass off, because I mean, how can he not? He’s a creative person and creative people’s minds never turn off, at least he gets some work done at home while he’s hanging around with us .

When Daddy comes home, we go for walks or subway rides or we visit museums. Becca’s favorite is the MoMA and Price’s favorite is the Natural Museum, because of the dinosaurs. That kid has more dinosaurs in his room than the museum itself. Becca loves art. She loves it so much, we’ve enrolled her in painting classes, and so far, she’s created three works of art that can best be described as Jackson Pollack meets Nickelodeon .

One that resembles a mango inside a taco hangs in the kitchen. “That Daddy’s favorite?” Becca asks, pointing at her painting .

“Yep, Daddy and Paisy’s favorite.” I pack up the apple slices for our picnic in the park and check my texts. Logan’s almost here .

“No, Paisy. Daddy and Mommy .”

I pause in mid-motion and cock my head at her. “You mean Paisy, Becca.” I don’t want to encroach on Miriam’s territory, not that I have. I’ve always done a good job of knowing where I stand and that’s neither as the twins’ mother nor their nanny anymore—just a happy-to-be-included stepmom .

“Not Paisy. Mommy! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…” She bounces around, taking enormous leaps like stepping over invisible puddles, and I have to hold my enthusiasm down before I cry from sheer joy. This child who I love so very much has just called me her mother. I’m honored beyond belief. Logan always said if the kids felt like calling me “Mommy,” we shouldn’t interfere. He maintains that if Miriam were to ever complain, we’ll take it up with her then .

But really, why would she complain? She’s never around to see her children and has moved permanently to Paris. It’s safe to say that I just became their official mother. Wiping tears, I put down the paring knife and go over to Becca, sitting her on my knee. “Thank you for calling me Mommy, baby. I love you so very much .”

“I love you more!” Her arms ring around my neck, then she points to my belly. “Baby in there ?”

I freeze and stare at this wide-eyed innocent child. How did she know? I only just found out this morning and was planning on telling Logan and the children as soon as we got our picnic started. I’ve heard that kids can sometimes have a sixth sense about these things, but I’m floored, happy, and ecstatic all at the same time .

“Yes, Becca. But shh …” I place my finger to my lips. “Don’t tell him, okay? It’s a surprise. In fact, let’s pack a few extra things and let Daddy figure it out. Like a puzzle, okay ?”

“Okay, Mommy. Puzzle, puzzle, puzzle …”

Pierce comes zooming into the room carrying his big stuffed dinosaur, Herbert, as I take a sheet of paper from their stash, a few crayons and quickly draw a rendering Logan would be proud of .

When he comes home, he’s got that exhausted, ready-to-be-revived look on his face. Kissing us all and sweeping us into big hugs, he says, “Let’s go for our stroll, Terribles. I get to pull the wagon .”

“No, I get to pull the wagon,” I fake-fight him, giggling .

“No, I get to pull the wagon. Becca and Pierce are mine, mine, mine .”

“No, they’re mine,” I counter, and the kids laugh so hard, I break into a ginormous smile. This is our little routine. Each day, we pretend to fight over who loves the kids more. I wish my parents did this sort of them with me and my brothers, but alas, my dad never bothered. Only recently did I reach out to him for the first time since that awful day last year when I last saw him at the trial .

I believe in love and I believe in forgiveness, so maybe soon, I’ll let him back into my life completely. Especially since he’s going to be a grandfather soon .

At the park, it’s hot but the water dazzles under the afternoon light, and the park is filled with joggers, families, and tourists. We stroll to our tree, the one we’ve dubbed “the Family Tree” because it has four big branches that extend into the sky exploding with white flowers, one for each of us, and Logan says, “Look at that. There’s a small branch coming out of the side there. Hmm, wonder what that means…” He gives me a sneaky look like he’d be willing to try for an addition later tonight after the kids are asleep .

But Becca beats him to it. After all, she’s almost four and can’t contain herself, much less a secret of this magnitude. “That’s the baby’s branch, Daddy .”

“The baby’s branch?” Logan tilts his head to me .

I capture this moment, the lowering orange sun illuminating his silver eyes, our little ones happily munching on apple slices and goldfish crackers, a light summer breeze flowing over us. There will never be another day quite like this one, when Logan Raider looked into my eyes inquisitively imploring what his daughter might possibly mean, when I had the honor and full joy in my heart to say the words I’d never thought I’d say to him .

Life is ever-flowing, like that river over there, the one bending and twisting its way up the state of New York. A year ago, our life changed for the better when he asked me to marry him. A few months ago, it changed again when we made our love official, and now it’s about to change one more time .

I pull out the crude but awesome drawing I made just before he got home. “Babe, can you give this to your team and see that it comes to fruition by December ?”

He looks at it, completely befuddled. “What’s in December?” His eyes rove over the lines and shadings and rustic renderings of a crib, furniture, and a beautiful tree painted on the wall .

It’s time to add another branch to the Family Tree—literally—and I want this depicted on the nursery wall. “Probably my due date. It’s the baby’s room.” I watch his face change from confused to shocked to the biggest silliest grin I’ve ever seen on my husband’s face .

And then that grin transforms into a look of love like I’ve never seen before, and as he leans in for a long kiss, I tell myself to freeze this moment, to remember its perfection forever and ever …