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Jules rubs her belly—barely visible, but unmistakable. “Five more months, give or take.”
“Will you be taking time off?” a little voice asks, and I glance over. It’s Snook, holding up Harrison’s phone, eyes wide with curiosity.
Jules beams, lowers down, and waves directly at her dad’s phone, speaking to the @Snook&Co Instagram Live. “I’ll be doing a piece calledBalancing Act: The Art of Mommying, Daddying, Work, and Kids.” She playfully bops Snook’s nose and winks up at Harrison, who salutes from the car.
Taking Snook’s hand in one of hers, I grab the other, and we make our way toward the waiting SUV.
Harrison’s already got the door wide open. Connor’s up front, typical teenager, probably lost in his phone, and Ollie’s sprawled in the back.
Snook doesn’t just climb in like a normal kid—she scrambles over the headrests, giggling the whole way as she tumbles into the third row, a ball of kid energy Jules swears she’ll harness one day.
And Taylor’s already got big plans to sell it on Etsy for $9.99.
Then we slide in, and Harrison pulls away smoothly. I pull Jules close, my lips brushing against her ear. “You’re incredible, you know that, Mrs. Bishop?”
Before I can pull her closer, we both notice a little Angelina Ballerina book with a note tucked inside.
Jules picks it up, smoothing out the paper, and we both recognize the sweet, crooked letters.
It’s from Snook.
Dear Momma,
I miss you so, so much.
Daddy does, too.
He’s sad.
I’m seeing Princess Peach Pop tonight. She’s nice.
Maybe one day, you’ll send Daddy a princess to watch over him too?
xoxo,
Snooki
Jules presses the note to her chest, her eyes brimming with tears, and I can’t help but smile softly. I glance back at Snook and Oliver, both already fast asleep. I slip my jacket over them, gently tucking them in, and pull Jules close.
For a long moment, we just sit there, hearts swelling, wrapped in the quiet hope of a little girl’s wish. The rest of the drive passes in silence, with us holding each other, both of us staring so hard at the back of Harrison’s head that we’re practically burning a hole in it.
He glances in the rearview mirror, one thick auburn brow lifting in suspicion. “What?”
“What what?” I stall, as Jules discreetly tucks the note back into the book beside her.
I know what she’s thinking—despite the years, Harrison’s still deeply affected by the loss, and the last thing my Jules wants is to upset him.
But I also know my wife. Jules-the-fixer already has a dozen wheels turning in her head. The second she gets a chance, she’ll be speed-dialing her mom, Halmeoni, Taylor, Jess, and Mrs. D. She’ll rally the troops because, as my sister Jess always says, never underestimate the power of a wish.
Harrison eyes us again. “You’re both staring at me.”
“No, we aren’t,” I lie.
Harrison deadpans. “I’m a father of three and a former SEAL. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.”
Still, I look him square in the eye and say, “You’re imagining things.”
For a second, he gives me the parentalI know you’re up tosomethinglook. But when he yawns, I know we’re in the clear. The guy’s beat, and after staying this late in the city just for us, another hour on the road is the last thing he needs.
