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I wipe beneath one eye. “I don’t know how to stop expecting the worst.”

“Then don’t make yourself solve all of it tonight.”

I frown at him.

“Start with today,” he says, brushing the tear from beneath my eye. “You heard both heartbeats before we left that office, and you’ve spent the evening being kicked from the inside as my daughters argue over which baby gets which stuffed animal. Let that be enough tonight.”

I lean farther into his hand. “You’re making this sound suspiciously manageable.”

“I’m trying to avoid giving you another project.”

That pulls a laugh out of me. “You know I’m going to worry anyway.”

“I know you are.” He shifts closer, keeping hold of my hand. “You also know where to find me when you do.”

I lean into his hand. “That’s surprisingly simple advice from a man who turns everything into a security operation.”

“Simple usually works.”

I smile through the tears. “You know I’m still going to worry.”

“I know.”

“And I may need reminding.”

“I can handle that.” Bane leans closer until his forehead touches mine. “However often you need.”

I close my eyes and finally let myself believe him.

Behind the glass doors, Sprout races through the living room with the nursery fabric hanging from his mouth. Babs chases him.

“Sprout, give it back! That’s for the babies!”

Biddy appears behind her, looking deeply offended. “Daddy! He’s being bad again!”

Bane shuts his eyes. I laugh against his shoulder.

“He sounds busy,” I say.

“I’m considering changing the locks.”

“He lives here.”

“That remains under review.”

He stands and offers me both hands, helping me out of the chair before wrapping one arm around my waist.

Through the doors, I can see the life waiting for us.

Babs is trying to bargain with the dog using a cracker she definitely shouldn’t have before bed. Biddy explains to Mara that babies need “soft things and snacks.”

My shoes are beside Bane’s near the entryway, my work bag is by the couch, and half the nursery shelves are already filled with things the girls insist their siblings will need.

Bane kisses my temple. “Ready to go rescue Mom?”

I watch Sprout duck behind the couch. Babs squeals and Biddy tries to block the other end. “Definitely.”

I take Bane’s hand and follow him inside. Babs reaches us before the terrace door closes, grabbing two of my fingers, and tries to explain what Sprout did at the same time as Biddy insists the babies will need bedtime stories as soon as they come home.