“Swing, swing, swing,” Erik says, with his chubby little cheeks puffed out, jumping up and down.

“Hold Mommy’s hand, Erik,” Mia says to our three-year-old son. He slips his tiny fingers between hers and then latches on to me.

I smile down at Erik, and then glance up at Mia, both of us lifting him off the ground at the same time.

“I want to fly, Daddy,” he says to me in his baby voice that makes my heart melt. “Make my fly.”

“You got it, buddy.”

Mia laughs, her smile so wide that it illuminates her entire face. I love this woman and my children more than anything in this world. And I have them, all because of the darkest parts of my life. My brother’s death had set into action a chain of events that I never thought would lead me to this point. Years ago, I thought I would be dead by now. Part of me wanted—no needed—to be with my brother again. My depression and guilt over Erik, mixed with my drug habit, should have killed me. But it didn’t.

With a strong grip on Erik, we rock him back and forth, all the way through the cemetery until we reach my brother’s grave. My mother waits for us, with her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, her back facing us.

“Grams,” Erik screams, and she spins around.

The second we set Erik on the ground he runs into my mom’s arms. “Hey, baby.” She hugs Erik and kisses him on the cheek and forehead, holding on to him for dear life.

“You made it,” my mom says to Mia and me, adjusting Erik on her hip. “How was the trip?”

“Not bad. We hit some traffic, but nothing major.”

When Mia had found out she was pregnant, we were only married for a few months. I couldn’t wait to make her my wife, and with my hockey schedule, we didn’t waste much time after my proposal. My mom cried for days after I told her our son’s name. She still does on occasion. Today is one of those days. Even though she tries to blink them away, her eyes are watery, filled with tears.

“How long have you been here?” I ask my mom.

“Not long. Maybe twenty minutes or so. You know, my usual visiting hours.”

Every day since she moved back to Boston, my mom has visited my brother and father, who are now buried next to each other. Some days, she spends hours here and knowing that breaks my heart. She never moved on, never got the second chance I had with Mia. At least not until Erik came along.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?”

Her gaze shifts between Erik and me, until she settles on Mia and her stomach. She’s pregnant again, this time with a girl. I’ve been begging my mother for years to come live with us.

My mom runs her hand over Mia’s baby bump and smiles. “I think it’s time.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

She kisses Erik on the forehead and pulls his head to her chest. “Do you want Grams to come live with you and the new baby?”

Erik giggles. “Baby kicks me.”

All of us burst into laughter.

“When he touched Mia’s stomach last week,” I add for clarification, “Willa kicked his hand.”

“Willa? I love the name.”

“My brother wanted Ethan to name his first born after him. He didn’t get his wish, so we compromised with Willa.”

“It’s a beautiful name for my granddaughter.” My mother’s gaze falls to the headstones in front of us, her eyes full of sadness. “I wish your brother and father were here to meet your children. I bet if Erik were alive he would have fought you for Mia.”

We both smile at the thought of my brother, who probably would have kicked my ass for a chance with my wife. Erik was the life of the party, where I was always the one brooding in the corner, ignoring everyone. He was more like Will, which is why I gravitated to him so much when I’d first moved to Pennsylvania.

Erik thrashes in my mother’s arms until she sets him on the ground. My little guy moves between my brother and father’s graves and presses his tiny palms to the marble. He looks up at me with curiosity in his green eyes. “Grandpa and Uncle Erik live together. Is that why Grams is going to live with us?”

My son reminds me so much of my brother when we were kids. We were identical twins, with Erik being older by a few minutes, and my son looks just like our baby pictures. But his personality is my brother to a T.

I crouch down in front of him, trying not to cry. “Yeah, buddy. Grams will make you the Mickey Mouse pancakes you like.”

His face lights up with excitement. “With peanut butter?”

“Sure,” I choke out. “Whatever you want.”

Erik throws himself into my arms, and I breathe in the scent of his baby shampoo. He smacks a kiss on my cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, buddy.”

Mia settles in behind me and places her hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. My mother does the same to my other shoulder.

“It’s time to go home, baby,” my mom says to me. “I am ready.”

“Me, too, Mom. Me, too.” I lift Erik in my arms and stand. “You’ll like the adjoining apartment I had renovated for you on the off chance you would change your mind.”

She rubs her hands together, excited. “That means I get to decorate, cook my babies dinner, and plan our Sunday brunches. Looking forward to it all. But most of all, I’m looking forward to being with my family.”

“I’m glad you reconsidered. This will be good for all of us.”

With every member of my family present, including my unborn daughter, my life feels complete. My mom had always told me that the right people come into our lives when we need them most, and that much was true when it came to Mia. She was the breath of fresh air I needed, the one person I could bare myself to without fear.

I turn to Mia, with Erik flush against my hip, and press my lips to hers. No matter how many days or years go by, I still feel that spark with her, a flame that only burns brighter with each new experience we share with each other.

“Eww,” Erik says in my ear. “Daddy kissed Mommy.”

“My silly boy,” Mia says, patting Erik’s shaggy brown hair. “Wait until you get old enough to have a girlfriend.”

He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Girls are gross.”

I laugh. “You won’t be saying that when you get older, buddy. Mommy’s not gross, and she’s a girl.”

“Love Mommy,” he coos. “Mommy pretty. Mommy makes me cookies. Can I have cookies?”

Mia cracks a smile. “When we get home, I will make you all the cookies you can eat.”

“Yay,” he yells in my ear. “I want to fly again, Daddy. Swing, swing, swing.”

“Okay, but one more time, and then we have to leave.”

I set Erik down, and he clutches both of our hands. Mia smiles at me, my expression mirroring hers.

“Take us home, Daddy,” Mia says to me, as she moves her arm back to help me swing Erik.

“There’s no place I would rather be.”