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We break apart at Leo’s shout, both laughing softly. Eve’s lips are swollen again, her eyes bright full of promise for later.

“Coming, sweetheart,” she calls back, but lingers a moment longer in my arms. “I love you,” she whispers, like it’s still a secret between us. Like each time she says it isn’t a miracle I never expected to have.

“I love you too.” The words come easier now, though they still feel inadequate for everything she means to me. “Even if you did get frosting on my shirt.”

She swats my chest playfully before pulling away. “Your fault for wearing white to a kids’ party.”

We head back to where Leo is attempting to juggle water balloons, much to his friends’ delight. Predictably, this ends with a balloon busting and everyone getting soaked. Good thing I can afford cleaners.

My heart expands when Eve joins in, a shriek of laughter escapes her when Leo lands a direct hit with another balloon. She’s beautiful like this—hair wild, dress clinging to damp skin, joy radiating from every movement.

“You’re staring again,” Seb comments, materializing beside me with two beers. He hands me one, clinking the bottles together. “It’s disgustingly romantic.”

“Shut up.” I accept the beer anyway, taking a long pull. “Like you’re any better with Olivia.”

He splutters mid-sip. “That’s different.”

“Sure it is.” I smirk at his discomfort. “Just casual fun, right? That’s why you keep finding excuses to be wherever she is?”

“I hate you,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. We both know I’m right.

We stand in companionable silence, watching the kids play in the spilled water, sliding every which way, devolving into general chaos while the women struggle to clean up the mess. Eli has somehow been dragged in as referee, though he’s failing miserably at maintaining any sort of order.

“Did you ever think we’d have this?” Seb asks suddenly, voice uncharacteristically serious. “After everything … did you think we’d end up here?”

I consider the question, thinking of all the dark paths that led us to this moment. The violence, the pain, the desperate choices we made to survive. “No,” I admit finally. “Never thought we’d make it this far.”

He nods, understanding perfectly. We both carry the scars of our past—visible and invisible. Both know how close we came to ending up dead in an alley or locked in a cell.

“You deserve it, you know.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “The happiness. The family. All of it.”

I start to protest but he cuts me off. “No, listen. You’ve spent your whole life taking care of everyone else—me, the business, now Eve and Leo. Let yourself have this, brother. Let yourself believe you’re worthy of it.”

Am I really so transparent in my doubt? In my constant waiting for it all to be ripped away?

Before I can respond, a clump of icing explodes against my chest, splattering across my shirt. When did food get involved? Leo’s triumphant “Got you!” rings across the room, followed by gasps from the other kids who expect me to be angry.

Instead, I set my beer down with exaggerated care. “Oh, it’s on now.”

The resulting food war leaves everyone covered and breathless with laughter. Even Eli gets into it, his usual stoic expression cracking when Nora manages to nail him right in the face.

By the time we call a ceasefire, the sun is setting, and the kids are showing signs of a sugar crash. Parents begin gathering belongings and herding tired children toward cars.

Leo fights sleep even as he says goodbye to his friends, determined to make the day last as long as possible. He barely makes it through thank you hugs before his eyes start drooping.

“Time for bed, birthday boy,” Eve says softly, smoothing his damp, food covered hair back from his forehead. “But I think you need a bath first.”

“Not tired,” he protests through a massive yawn.

“Course not.” I scoop him up, marveling at how his body instantly curls into mine despite his protests. “But superheroes need rest too, right?”

He mumbles something unintelligible, already mostly asleep against my shoulder. Eve follows us upstairs, gathering his new toys into semi-organized piles.

He’s not awake enough for a full bath, so I had to wash him off as best I could before changing him into pajamas.

We tuck him in together, the sight of his peaceful face stirring something profound in my chest. His hand clutches the stuffed Captain America shield Olivia gave him, dark lashes fanning against cheeks still flushed from play.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” Eve whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead.