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I roll up my mat, ready to go inside to prepare breakfast, but the door slides open and two pairs of feet and four paws scurry out the house.

Mia and Scott toddle past me out onto the lawn as they chase after our new retriever puppy.

“Harry’s a dead man,” is all I hear from the house. I chuckle to myself, keeping my eyes on the kids as they run around with Doodles. Mia chose the name. We put up a fence to stop the kids running into the lake but I am always on high alert when they are outside in case they opened the gate. I watch as Mia’s long dark hair, that’s just like mine, trails behind her as she chases after the puppy. Scott tumbles to the ground and Doodles licks his face, causing cute giggles to float through the air.

Brad steps outside in a pair of black sweatpants and yellow washing up gloves. He glances out to see the kids and then his focus is on me. His face is red, the frown line in his forehead, that’s become more prominent since Scott was born, now clearly visible as he points at the puppy.

“Do you know what Doodles did?” he says through gritted teeth.

“No, what did Doodles do?” “He took a shit on the rug, so we need to throw that out, then he chewed your new tennis shoes. Oh, and he chewed the head off Mia’s doll, so I’ve been consoling her for the past twenty minutes. The dog is a menace.”

I cover my mouth with my hands, trying to hide my humor at the situation.

“And why is Harry a dead man?”

“Because he suggested we get the damn dog. He took Mia to see the puppies when they looked after them last month and then she came home with her own puppy dog eyes saying `pweese, Daddy, can we get a doodle dog?`”

“Oh, yeah, she did saypweese.”

Brad nods. “And you know I’m weak when she says pweese. So, Doodles got a new home. I just hope Harry’s new puppy Dennis shits in his shoe and he steps in it.”

I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Why don’t you chill on the porch and watch the kids, and I’ll clear up Doodles' mess.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, I’m not clearing it up. I’m marching over to Harry’s and dragging his ass over here and he can scrub the dog shit out of my rug.” I fall into fits of laughter, my forehead falling against his chest.

“I am glad you find this entertaining.”

“It’s kind of funny,” I say, squinting my eyes and pressing my thumb and forefinger together leaving a tiny space. “Just a little funny.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I fight to keep down the laughter that wants to rip out of me. He has let go of most of his OCD habits, but cleaning, isn’t one of them. He needs order and cleanliness and who am I to argue? My house is always spotless.

“You go get Harry. I’ll feed the kids.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Deal.”

“What. A. Day,” I say as I flop down on the mattress and Brad does the same.

“I’m fucked,” he announces. “I love them, but those Walker boys…”

“I know,” I say in agreement.

“Poor Aubrey. I hope Jack and Ria got the paint out of her hair,” I say reliving the moment Aubrey walked outside herhair dripping in blue paint from our craft cupboard while Blake and Brayden followed her, their tiny hands covered in said blue paint, but they of course denied it was them.

Our weekends, and truly most days, are spent going between our three houses. We nag at Noah and his family to move to the lake, and I think we are close to breaking them down.

I still teach Pilates virtually and now specialize in postpartum. I love it. I do a workshop every so often in the city, but for the most part, I do it remotely and work around Brad. Thanks to the now five clubs they have, he’s able to spend more time at home with us and has people doing the day to day running. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio nearby, but that’s something for the future when Mia and Scott are older.

If someone had told me five years ago, I would be married and living the domestic lake house life with Brad Russo, I’d have thought they were crazy. This was everything he swore he never wanted, and yet, I’ve never seen him happier.

He tugs me closer, his eyes searching my face as if he’s seeing me for the first time. That’s the thing about Brad. Every time he looks at me, kisses me, he looks at me as if it were the first time and the last.

He stares at me so intently. I feel it stir in my core. “What?” I smirk.

“What? Can’t a man just look at his wife?”

“Of course he can, and I hope he’s going to do a lot more than that.” I wink.

A low growl erupts from his chest as he flips us. I straddle his lap and lift my night dress above my head, dropping it beside me. His dick stirs to life beneath me, and I rotate my hips.

“I’m one lucky man.”

Being desired by him, wanted by him, loved by him. It ended up being everything I was searching for, and he stayed true to his word. Not a day has passed that I have doubted him. Since theday he asked me to marry him, he has spent every day showing me, proving to me that I am more than enough.