Nodding, she leans over and opens the door to the closet then quickly tucks her face into my neck. Like I do at least a few times a week, I swing out the sword, making grunting noises, spinning around and dancing, and then finish with a downward plunge into the imaginary monster’s chest.

“There. He’s gone,” I say, and Ava lifts her head and looks around the room then peeks into the closet. “See? All taken care of.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” God, no matter how many times a day I hear her call me that, it never gets old.

“You’re welcome, baby. You ready to get back into bed?”

“Yes.” She nods. Dropping the sword back to its spot by the door, I carry her to her bed and lay her down, pulling the blankets up around her shoulder and kissing the top of her head. “Is tomorrow doughnut day?” she asks, sounding already half asleep.

I grin. “Yeah, baby. Tomorrow’s doughnut day.”

“Yippie,” she whispers, as her eyes slide closed.

“See you in the morning.” I kiss her hair once more, turn out her lamp, and then head across her dark room. Climbing back into bed with Harmony, I fit myself against her back and rest my hand over our soon-to-arrive second daughter.

“Harlen Alistair MacCabe, the Scottish lord and slayer of monsters,” she says, and even though I can’t see her face through the dark, I know she’s smiling.

“Do anything for my girls.”

“We know.” She scoots back, cuddling closer.

“Sleep, Angel.”

“Still so bossy,” she mumbles, sounding like she’s still smiling.

Ignoring her comment, I kiss the top of her head then listen to her breathing even out as she falls back asleep.

Harmony

Four Years Later

“No, it’s mine!” Ava cries, holding a pink-frosted sprinkled doughnut over her head, just out of her little sister’s reach.

“No, I want it!” our daughter, Lillian, yells, standing on her tiptoes trying to reach the doughnut but failing, since she’s about a foot and a half too short.

“How about neither of you get it?” Harlen growls, and I look down at our six-week-old son Alistair to hide my smile from our girls.

“Dad, that’s not fair! I saw it first,” Ava says, and I’m sure if I looked up at her, she would be jetting out her bottom lip in a pout, a look she has perfected over the years. A look that normally gets her whatever she wants from her daddy. I also know she’s lying. When Harlen came home and dropped the box of donuts on the table, both girls opened the box at the same time, and both of them reached for that doughnut at the same time. Ava just got to it first.

“Give me the doughnut, Ava,” he orders, and I look up just in time to watch him hold out his hand and her place it in his upturned palm.

“Daddy,” Lillian whispers in horror, as he shoves the whole thing in his mouth and swallows it without really even chewing.

“Now it’s gone. Pick another one, stop arguing, and go watch TV,” he orders, and I hold back laughter, because he’s seriously funny when he’s trying to be tough. Something he’s not very good at being with his babies.

“Need some milk, honey?” I ask, and his eyes come to me and narrow. “What? Just asking.” I bite my lip, and his eyes drop to my mouth then down to our son that is attached to my breast, where he’s enjoying his Saturday breakfast. When his eyes meet mine again, I see frustration there. Then again, he hasn’t gotten laid for over six weeks. I just got word from the doctor that the seal could finally be broken a couple of days ago, but with the girls and a new little one, we haven’t had a chance, so he’s not the only one who’s frustrated.

“Did you eat?” he questions, and I shake my head. “Angel, you need to eat.” He comes to me, taking Alistair when I lift him off my breast, then bends to kiss me. Hearing the doorbell ring, he leans back to look at me, ordering, “Eat something. I’ll get the door.” Kissing my forehead, he carries Alistair toward the front door, patting his back.

I listen to the door open, and then hear the sound of my dad and mom greeting Harlen. My face softens as my dad says something that makes Harlen laugh while the girls run through the house—a house we bought after Lillian was born—both of them yelling for their grandma and grandpa. Hearing all that, I smile to myself, get up, and head to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

***

“Honey,” I whimper against Harlen’s ear eight hours later, and his fingers that had been playing lazily between my legs speed up.

“Do not wake the kids,” he orders gruffly, and I bite my lip.

“I need you.”

“You’ll get me.” His thumb rolls against my clit, and my back arches off the bed, sending his fingers deeper. “God, so fucking tight, and so goddamn wet. I’ve missed this,” he says, still toying with me.

I squeeze my eyes closed then move quickly, rolling him to his back, straddling his waist, and impaling myself on his cock. “I’ve missed this,” I tell him, riding him hard as one of his hands wraps around my hip, the other cupping my breast.

“Fuck,” he groans, and I look down at him, his eyes meeting mine.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Angel.” He lifts his hips into mine then sits up, capturing my breast with his mouth and pulling my nipple deep, sending a shockwave of pleasure through me. “Give it to me.”

“Yes,” I pant as I start to come, going over the edge and pulling him along with me when I feel him pulse deep inside me. Falling against his chest, breathing heavy, I shiver as his hands slide up and down my back.

“That was way too quick. Give me twenty minutes and we’re gonna try that again,” he says, and I laugh, tucking my face into his neck then closing my eyes when I hear Alistair wake through the baby monitor.

“I’ll go get him,” he says, kissing my lips then my forehead before pulling out of me and rolling out of bed. He puts on a pair of pajama bottoms and leaves the room. Watching him go, I know without a doubt that some of the most beautiful things in life are things you don’t plan for, and my amazing life is proof of that.