It was moving day. 

My mother wiped her eyes surreptitiously on the hem of her blouse as she went through the cupboards one more time. "You sure you don't want the mug you gave me for Mother's Day?" she asked, holding up the battered white ceramic piece I'd festooned with Finn's and my handprints at age nine. 

I went over to her and kissed the top of her head while simultaneously taking the mug from her and gently setting it on the counter. "Okay, first thing? I gave that to you, so it belongs to you. Second?" I laughed as I leaned down and pawed through the box she'd been filling. "We already have this stuff, Mom. You don't need to give us your..." I paused and pulled out a strange tine studded implement. "What the heck is this anyway?"

"A pastry cutter." She took it and put it back into the box. 

I reached in and took it back out again. "Mom." I tried to keep any exasperation out of my voice. Her eyes were already shining with tears. If they started to fall in earnest, I would lose it. "I'm never going to use a pastry cutter."

"But Rachel might." She took it out of my hand and put it back in the box with a look like she was daring me to defy her one more time. "She's a very good baker, she'd probably appreciate having a nice piece of equipment like that." Her nostrils flared. "It is a very nice pastry cutter, Beauregard.”

My full name. Shit. I threw up my hands in surrender. "Fine." A faint beeping that had been in the background suddenly got louder and I heard my brother's shout. "That's Finn with the moving truck anyway." I kissed her on the head again. "I gotta go help him load up."

Three strong brothers should have made short work of the boxes, but when you threw in a bossy sister and a father who considers his packing skills to be one of the most impressive things about him, it meant that loading the moving truck took a lot longer than it should have. Rather than stick around and mediate the spats between Jonah and my father about where the best place to stash my upright piano (I was leaving the grand at my parents' since it had been my grandfather's) I decided to head over to the house and do one last spot clean. Because with Finn as my roommate, it might be the last time the place was ever cleaned again. 

When I got to the house, I stood in the driveway for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was going to work. I scanned the lawn, wondering why it looked so empty, until I remembered that all growing up I was used to seeing our lawn spread out with our various projects and all the discarded bikes and bats and balls we always dragged out whenever we were home from a tour. I wasn't used to things being so... sterile. Even the air smelled faintly of bleach.

Then I sniffed again and realized that smell was coming from the house. The doors and windows were all opened. I definitely had not left them that way when I'd locked up last night.

"What the hell?" I called out as I nudged the door the rest of the way open.

Faint music wafted out from the kitchen. The sound of an angel singing. "Rachel?"

"Oh!" She dropped the sponge she'd been scrubbing with and jumped when she heard my voice. "You're here! I didn't hear the truck!"

"What are you doing here?" Yellow rubber gloves flopped open at her elbows. She looked like she was wearing some kind of pillowcase trimmed with lace at the collar. "What are you wearing?"

She looked down at her garb and pressed her lips together. "I was going to change before you got here," she said, looking abashed as she fingered the white fabric that billowed around her. "Chosen undergarments. I only wear them when I clean now."

I shook my head. "But why are you here? And aren't you working today?"

She grinned shyly. "I switched hours. I could either clean for other people. or I could come over and clean for you." She struck a proud pose. "One thing is for sure. I know how to clean. It's my job after all."

I looked at her, hunger thudding in my veins. With her hair pinned up in a halo around the crown of her head and that billowing white garment wafting around her, she had never looked more like an angel. "What?" she asked with a sly grin when she saw my expression. 

In two steps she was in my arms and in ten more we were in the bed. "I don't know"—I groaned into her neck as she tore my shirt over my head—"how long we have. The truck could be here at any minute."

"So hurry," she whispered as she guided me inside of her. 

I was so worked up it took an embarrassingly short time. Rachel's cries were just dying away when we both froze at the sound of truck tires on the long gravel driveway. Rachel started giggling into my shoulder. "That was excellent timing." 

I kissed her fiercely. "I'll make it up to you later," I promised as I pulled back and tossed her the shirt she'd brought to change into. We hurriedly changed into our clothes and were out on the deck to greet my family before they had even turned off the engine. 

My brothers tumbled from the truck, shouting about who could carry more boxes in one go. Claire followed behind them, crowing about how she'd been the one to find this house in the first place, and my father slung his arm around my mother's shoulder and whispered something into her ear that made her laugh and then dab at her eyes again. 

"I like your family," Rachel whispered. 

I put my arm around her in an echo of my dad, then waved down at them, feeling Gabe's absence acutely. My family was all here, at my house, and I had my girl in my arms to make it even better. I pulled her close, smelling the bleach in her hair before kissing her. Everyone I cared about under the same roof, all of my family spilling out into the lawn and calling out to each other. 

The only thing that could make this better would be if there were some kids running around. 

I stiffened a little and felt my grip on Rachel tighten. I could picture them. Right now. A boy and a girl, maybe twins. One that looked like Finn and one that looked like Rachel. In between my family's shouted questions and whoops of discovery, I could almost hear their giggles as they chased each other around the yard. 

"You happy or something?" Rachel tipped her head to beam up at me. "You always hold me tighter when you're happy." 

"Yeah." Emotion choked out the rest of what I wanted to tell her, but it didn't matter. With her background, coming from a huge family like she did, she'd understand, right? "I'm just thinking."

"Hey, Beau? You gonna maybe help?" Claire was standing in the doorway with her hand planted on her hip. She rolled her eyes and stomped away. 

I sighed and grinned at Rachel, then moved to follow, but she stopped me with a tug on my hand. "Hey. what were you thinking about? Just then?"

I took a deep breath. "This is going to sound random, but, do you ever think about what it'd be like to have kids?"

All the color drained from Rachel's face. She glanced over at the spot where Claire had been and dropped my hand. 

"Oh shit. Sorry." I shot her a sheepish grin. Rachel was a pretty private person. She definitely didn't want to have this discussion with my parents and my siblings within earshot. "Bad timing. Come on."

She was quiet as she went through the door first and I cursed my carelessness. Rachel was right, this was definitely not the right time to be discussing this. But I needed to hear from her exactly how she felt about it. I'd always wanted to be a dad. It was important to me. 

Maybe some time this week, when the stress of moving had died down, I'd take her out to dinner and we could have a real talk about it. It was okay to take our time. After all, I planned on spending a lot more time with Rachel Walker.