Page 56 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

Something cracks in my chest. Not breaks, cracks open. Like a seed splitting its shell.

"I missed you too, baby," I whisper. "So much."

Grace smiles from the doorway. "She was asking for you all night. 'Willow? Willow?'" She mimics Lily's high, questioning tone. "I told her you were sleeping, and she said 'okay' and went right back to sleep. But she asked again every hour."

My eyes sting. I blink hard, fast, trying to hold it together.

"Thank you, Grace," I say. "Really."

"Of course." She glances toward the hallway, where three sets of footsteps are approaching. "I'll leave you to it. The invoice will be sent to Mr. Blaine's office."

She leaves, the private elevator closes behind her, and suddenly the kitchen is full.

JD appears first. He's pulled on sweatpants, but nothing else, and his bare chest is a wall of muscle and dark hair that makes my mouth go dry even after last night. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are still heavy with sleep, and he moves straight to the coffee maker with the single-minded focus of a man who cannot function without caffeine.

Knox follows. He's wearing boxers and nothing else, and his golden hair sticks up in a way that makes him look like a very attractive, very rumpled rooster. He yawns enormously, scratches his chest, and beelines for the fruit bowl.

And Deklan. Deklan is fully dressed in slacks, a button-down shirt, and glasses. How he managed to shower and change in the three minutes between the nest and the kitchen is beyond me, but he's already at the island, laptop open, coffee steaming beside him.

Three men, one omega, and one banana-covered toddler.

Family.

My Family.

The word doesn't feel scary anymore. It feels inevitable. Like gravity, like the sunrise happening right now beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the city in shades of gold and pink.

Lily lifts her head from my shoulder and surveys the kitchen. Her dark eyes land on each man in turn.

"Unca JD," she says. "Unca Knox. Unca Deklan."

"Morning, monster," Knox says, dropping a kiss on her curly head. "How's the banana?"

Lily holds up a mushy handful as evidence.

"Excellent," Knox says. "Five stars."

JD crosses to us, coffee in hand, and his free hand comes up to cup the back of my head. The touch is proprietary, natural, like he's been doing it for years. He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering against my skin, and Lily watches the whole thing with the solemn fascination of a child witnessing something important.

"Willow," Lily says. She points at JD's hand on my head, then at Knox, who is leaning against the counter beside me, then at Deklan, who has looked up from his laptop to watch.

"Willow," she repeats. And then, with the devastating clarity of a child who sees the world without complication: "Ours."

The kitchen goes silent.

Four adults, frozen in place, processing the word that just came out of a two-year-old's mouth.

Ours.

JD's hand tightens on the back of my head while Knox goes very still, his green eyes wide, and Deklan's fingers freeze on his keyboard. And Lily, oblivious to the earthquake she's just caused, goes back to smashing her banana on my shoulder.

Knox is the first to speak. "Did she just?"

"Yes," Deklan says.

"She said…"

"Yes."