“They sent us the wrong cake,” Brooke moaned when she lifted the lid from the bakery. “Son of a bitch.”

I wrapped an arm around her and we stared down at Fred’s retirement cake. I knew that was because the frosting letters that said Congratulations on your retirement, Fred!

Definitely not Jacob’s cake for the twins’ second birthday. Piper’s was correct, thank goodness. Maybe Fred was celebrating his newfound freedom with a Paw Patrol smash cake.

“This is all Julia’s fault,” I said, shaking my head. “If she wasn’t being so selfish by fostering children without homes, Jacob would have the right cake. Let’s go egg their house. Then we can tell Marcus he needs to find somewhere else to live because he’s distracting Julia.”

Brooke laughed and turned to hug me. “This is why I need you forever and ever.” Her eyes met mine and she smiled, even though I knew the cake thing still pissed her off. “It could always be worse, right?”

“Hell yes, and I can’t believe you even put that out into the universe, because now one of them is definitely going to break something.”

The words were still hanging out of my mouth, the sounds in the air, my lips still forming the ing when there was a crash and a wail.

Brooke’s eyes fell shut and she sighed. “It’s your turn.”

I darted forward to give her a fast, hard kiss. “Yes, it is.”

When the crying increased about three-fold in volume, I turned and jogged out of the kitchen and down the hallway. The noise was coming from Brooke and my bedroom, as I’d moved in about four months earlier.

“Oh, Piper.” I whistled. “You are in so much trouble, little lady.”

Jacob was sitting on the bedroom floor, the side of his face red and large tears falling down his still-chubby cheeks. There were piles of clothes everywhere on the floor. Brooke’s clothes, not mine.

“’Is a ass-ident, Michael.”

Man. When she said my name like that. Her little lips couldn’t quite say it right, so it came out like Mike-ooh. Every single time, my heart melted.

I propped my hands on my hips. “An accident, huh? How’d all those clothes get ripped out of Mommy’s closet?”

Piper, with her giant brown eyes just like Brooke, blinked up at me and gave me a shy smile that was so fake, so practiced, that I had to try not to break into laughter.

“Piper hur’ me,” Jacob said in between sniffs. I leaned down and hefted him in my arms. Immediately, he buried his face into my neck.

“You know, someday, we’re gonna give you a free pass to just get her back.” My hand smoothed up his back while he calmed his tears. I winked at Piper and she giggled. “But until then, Piper, say you’re sorry and quit hitting him with hangers or whatever it is that you hit him with.”

Instead of apologizing, she ran off, dark hair flying and her laughter bouncing off through the hallway.

I leaned backward so I could see Jacob’s face. “You okay, buddy?”

He nodded solemnly. Instead of climbing off my lap like I expected him to, he laid his hand on the side of my face.

“Love you.”

Nope. My eyes did not burn with manly unshed tears. My throat did not close up. I cleared my throat and blinked a few times.

“Love you too, buddy.” Briefly, I tickled his sides and then set him on the ground while he giggled. “Go stand your ground, man. Don’t let her push you around.”

“Kay!” And he was off, tearing down the hallway after his sister.

With an oomph, I fell back onto the bed and sighed. Never in my life did I think it was possible to survive on as little sleep. They’d both had colic the week before, and Brooke and I had taken shifts of who stayed up with them.

In the quiet room, my eyes fell shut, but it wasn’t long before I felt someone crawling over the mattress to me. The scent of Brooke hit me in the next moment, and I smiled.

“Hey, baby.”

She snuggled in next to me and sighed when I tucked my arm around her back. “Hey.”

“Are we allowed to nap during the party?”

Her laugh made me smile, even though she pinched me in the side. “I wish. I could nap for a week right now. But no. If I have to be there, you have to be there.”

“Deal.” My hand found its favorite spot, just above her hip bone, and I stroked the skin there under her shirt.

“Do you …” Then she shook her head and nestled further into my chest.

“What?” I kissed her forehead.

Brooke propped her chin on my chest and stared up at me. “Do you ever wonder how the hell you found yourself in this crazy house? No sleep and sick kids and a woman who can easily go three days surviving on nothing but coffee and dry shampoo?”

“And wine. Don’t forget wine.”

She made like she was going to punch me in the balls, and I rolled so I was facing her. She was laughing, and so was I.

We had a lot of that in our life. In the crazy house that I never would’ve guessed would be the absolute perfect fit. There wasn’t time to be bored, and I could sit and watch Pixar movies any time I wanted.

That Toy Story 3 gets me every time.

Despite the crazy, and the lack of sleep, and never-ending crying and mess and baths and temper tantrums and hugs and cuddles and sibling fights, I was exactly where I was always meant to be.

“Of course, I wonder that,” I answered.

“Really?” She looked embarrassed.

“No, no. Don’t misunderstand.” With the hand not on her back, I cupped the side of her face and pulled her mouth to mine so I could steal a kiss. “Usually I just wonder why it took me so long to get here.”

“Good answer.” Her eyes were warm and pleased.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Brooke tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “You know … I haven’t asked you yet if you’re going to propose to me today.”

I sighed. “No, you haven’t.”

“Are you?”

“Woman, you’ve asked me this every day for a month. And every day I tell you the same thing.”

If it was possible for your heart to smile, mine was doing it. We’d done this dance for the last thirty days, when she found a receipt that she thought was for a ring, even though it was smudged. So being my perfect, nosy little Brooke, she just started asking.

“I know, I know. The more I ask, the more you’ll make me wait.”

She kissed me and stood off the bed. I slapped her ass and she squeaked. “You got it.”

Brooke left the room and I laid there for another minute. Her parents would be there soon, Cole and Julia and their six-month-old foster son, Marcus, who’d hopefully be a legal part of our family soon. And I’d invited all our friends, even though Brooke didn’t know that.

Because the ring that was tucked into the front pocket of my jeans was burning a hole there, and I couldn’t wait to get down on one knee in front of all the people who loved us, and ask Brooke to be my wife, ask the twins if I could stay with them forever.

“One more hour, future Mrs. Whitfield.” I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes again, so happy with my life that it didn’t feel fair. “One more hour.”