Page 324 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Just as the moment feels too perfect—

Nichole wakes up screaming.

Simone instantly goes into mommy mode, trying to grab her, and I swat her hands away.

“Girl, if you don’t stop. Daddy’s home,” I tell her, sticking my tongue out at her. “Let me work my magic.”

I stand up with her, walking into the kitchen, and of course, Simone follows. I just laugh, giving in and handing her Nichole as I go to the fridge and grab one of her bottles of pumped milk.

“I’m feeding her,” I tell her. “Don’t try to fight me. I’ve been at work all day, and then…the prison. I need some baby cuddles.”

Simone rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“And once she’s asleep,” I say, walking back over to her, “I need wife cuddles.”

I watch her cheeks flush.

“I guess I can make that happen,” she tells me, smiling.

I walk over to the sink to fill a cup with hot water so I can warm the bottle, then stare out the window, getting lost in my thoughts. Thinking about how grateful I am to be standing here, in this kitchen, in this house, with the most amazing family, and with the most amazing woman I still don’t deserve.

I’m distracted from my thoughts when I see movement outside the window.

I swallow, my throat getting tight with emotions all of a sudden. “Simone,” I call out, voice low. “Come here. Quick.”

She steps toward the sink and looks out the kitchen window to where I’m looking.

Three butterflies.

Not one.

Three.

They circle each other like they’ve got nowhere else to go.

Simone bounces Nichole, talking in a baby voice, trying to make her look at them, and I set the bottle down in the water, then step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I kiss her shoulder and then rest my chin there.

“My mom,” I say, pointing at the reddish one.

Simone looks at me, giving me a soft smile, then back at the window.

“Thor,” I say, pointing to the blue one flying hectically around.

I hear Simone laugh softly.

“And…baby Sinclair,” I say lastly, pointing at the smaller yellow one resting on the windowsill, slowly fluttering its wings.

Simone makes a sound that isn’t quite a laugh, isn’t quite a cry. Then she leans back into me like she needs me to hold her upright. And I do just that. Because I always will.

I look over to the fridge that’s covered in artwork from the boys, pictures of Simone and me, and…the handwritten note from my mom that we keep there. The one she wrote for my wedding day. The one I love re-reading all the time because of how perfectly she predicted the future I didn’t believe would be possible for me to have.

Mason,

If you’re reading this on your wedding day, then I truly couldn’t be happier.

You’ve found the kind of love I used to pray for you to find.

I wish I could see you standing there, probably an emotional wreck even though you’re trying so hard not to show it.