“Mother, Jazz took my hairbrush, she takes everything. You have to tell her to stop or I’m going to call the police and turn her in for being a thief.”

My eight-year-old daughter is obsessed with law enforcement. She is forever threatening her siblings with imprisonment for touching her things.

“Emma, she’s four years old, the police don’t care if she took your hairbrush. I’ll talk to her again about leaving your things alone.”

She stomps her foot and spins on her heel, long black hair billowing out behind her as she storms out of the kitchen yelling her sister’s name. This isn’t the end of it. I’ll have to go break up a fight soon but I’m used to it after ten years and five children.

Julián and I built a gorgeous house right on the beach four years after Grayson was born. When Jasmine came along we had officially outgrown our first home in Jewel Falls. With yet another baby on the way and plans for several more, building a bigger house was a no brainer.

The money my grandmother left afforded me the opportunity to design a forever home where we could comfortably have ten kids if we wanted to. I’m not sure I can handle five more but with Julián by my side, helping the way he does, it’s a possibility.

I count to five in my head and when I reach five the screaming erupts from upstairs. Emma is yelling and poor Jasmine is crying like her older sister has stabbed her in the heart.

I dry my hands on a dishtowel and put the last plate in the dishwasher. I program the time and temperature before calmly walking upstairs to break it up.

Anxiety and anger is contagious. I’ve learned to keep my cool as much as I can upon entering these situations.

I wish Julián were here, they listen to him. As for me, I think about 50% of what I say is wasted breath. It won’t be long, though, maybe another hour, before he pulls in the driveway and they scatter to make sure their rooms are picked up and homework is started. Julián is still a big goofball and a prankster but when it comes to being a daddy he’s the perfect combination of strict and loving and fair.

I pass Luca’s room and close the door so the argument will not wake him from his nap. Two year olds are tortuous little creatures when they haven’t napped and I don’t need that today of all days.

We are flying to California, all seven of us, to vacation with Julián’s old friend Major Steele and his wife and my good friend Violet Steele.

We get our families together once a year, twice if we are lucky. I love visiting them but dragging five kids across the country is getting to be a chore. This year our trip will consist of Julián and me trying to convince Major Steele and Violet to move to North Carolina and live on the beach near us.

Major is retiring soon and they have been considering an East Coast move for a couple of years. I’m going armed with blueprints and design ideas to convince them that they need to build a house right next to ours.

“I got it, Mom, you go ahead and pack, don’t worry about those two,” Grayson says coming out of his room and cutting in front of me on his way to break up the fight between Emma and Jasmine.

He has grown into a wonderful young man. At ten years old he is fully capable of doing his own laundry, taking care of small children, cooking, and keeping a house cleaner than most adults I know.

The best thing about him is that he takes after his father in all the good ways. He’s compassionate and respectful and protective of his Mama. He also has plans to follow in his daddy’s footsteps someday, he wants more than anything to become a US Marine.

I can’t imagine how he would have turned out if Caleb had been a part of his life. Thankfully, we will never have to know. He was sentenced to two years for forgery and first-degree theft. When he got out of prison we never heard a word from him and that’s fine with all of us.

Grayson has always thought of Julián as his dad and he is in every way possible. He’s coached his baseball and basketball teams like he promised to. He attends every school conference and orchestra concert. He helps all of the kids with their homework every night and the older kids go on a run with him every morning. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure this is all real.

“Thanks, Gray, I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” he says disappearing into Jazz’s bedroom. I hear him speaking calmly in a tone far beyond his years. He’s discussing the implications of theft with Jasmine and the need to have patience with little kids with Emma.

I make my way down the hall to our bedroom and sigh when I see the mess of clothes and half-packed suitcases. I need to get busy.

Warm hands slide around my waist and soft lips press against my neck causing me to jump.

“Oh my God, you scared me! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour, at least.”

“I left early, figured you could use some help and looks like I was right.”

I turn and drape my arms over his shoulders. “Are you insinuating that I can’t handle packing a family of seven up for a ten-day trip alone?”

“No way, never, just offering my services if they’re needed.”

I wiggle my ass and lean my head back on his shoulder. “Just what kind of services are you talking about, Captain Garcia?”

He presses his semi-erect cock against my ass, “Any kind you need, little lady.”

“Mm, I wish we had time but this mess won’t pack itself and our flight leaves at six. I’m already behind.”

“I got you, baby, we will pack, eat, fly, and have crazy hot makeup sex when we get to the hotel in California.”

We have called any sex act that takes less than an hour, makeup sex since we had real makeup sex ten years ago. We haven’t had a fight, not even once, in all of our years together. If there is something bothering one of us we bring it to the other ASAP and work it out.

“I like the sounds of that.”

He kisses my neck again and begins folding and packing. “How was work today?”

“I didn’t get a lot done with the kids home. We should have let them go to school today, they’re going to miss so much. I did wrap up the deal with the Martin’s and finalized the design plan for the Masterson’s after ten attempts. Pleasing that woman is almost impossible.”

My interior design company KG Designs has become one of the best known in the country. But with top-dollar prices come rich clients who change the décor of their homes more often than I change my underwear.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, baby.”

“Thanks.”

I hear the pitter patter of two, maybe three, kids coming down the hall.

“You didn’t tell them you were home?”

“Nope, I was going to help you first and give them a chance to pick up their rooms.”

Josefina, aka Josi, Max Jr., and Jasmine, aka Jazz fly into the room and wrap their little arms around Julián’s legs squealing with delight to see their daddy earlier than expected.

Josi is eight years old, Max Jr. is six, and Jazz is four. They are stair steps every two years that didn’t stop with Jazz. Luca is two years old and presently the baby of the family. This is the first time in ten years I have gone more than two years without being pregnant, or at least I’m pretty sure I’m not.

“Hey, guys, how was your day home with mommy? Did you help her out?”

“Good, Daddy, we packed our stuff for Uncle Nate’s all by ourselves,” Max Jr. says.

“Not all by yourself, dork, I helped you. He packed superhero figurines and his toothbrush,” Josi says, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you for helping him, honey, that was very nice of you,” Julián says tussling her hair.

“Dad, my hair!”

“Oh wow, sorry. I forgot you’re too old for that anymore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, way too old.”

“I took Emma’s brush,” Jazz says sticking out her full bottom lip. She is a carbon copy of Julián right down to the dimple in her cheek.

He squats down to her level and looks her in the eye. “You know stealing is wrong, don’t you, Jazz?”

She nods and her dark curls bounce up and down.

“I’m sorry. I told her I wouldn’t do it again.”

“You make sure you don’t. You’re too pretty to be a thief.” He kisses her nose and turns her toward the door. “Okay everybody, if you can carry your suitcase downstairs, do that now, if not, put it outside your door and I’ll help you when I’m done with mommy.”

A collective aw goes up but they all do as they are told right away. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make them listen. I’ve been telling them to do that for an hour.”

“I’m a Marine, baby, when I talk, people listen.” He winks and I step into his arms wrapping mine around his waist.

“You’re my Marine.”

“Yes, I am, and don’t you ever forget it.”

“Never.” I nuzzle my face into his chest and thank my lucky stars for the day I bumped into this man on the beach in sunny California.

He is, and will always be, my Marine.