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“Hi, Richard,” I say with a smile, brushing a lock of hair off Lily’s forehead. “Hope it’s okay I turned up unannounced.”

“Okay? You’re a walking excuse to skip bath time later. The girls will be thrilled.” He drops a kiss on Claire’s cheek, then gives my shoulder a quick squeeze on his way to the kitchen. “You staying for dinner? Or, do I have to drive you back to O’Hare for another emergency?”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“You missed a great holiday.”

“I know. Next time.”

Richard carries the groceries through to the kitchen and then washes his hands. “Claire texted you’ve quit your job? Good for you.”

I blink at him. “That’s it? No lecture?”

“What? You think someone who’s spent twelve years herding subcontractors and trying not to fall off scaffolding is gonna judge you for quitting a job that made you miserable?” He opens the fridge, grabs a beer, and pops the cap off with one practiced motion. “Nah. Sounds like the sanest thing you’ve done in years.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” I shake my head, smiling. “Thanks.”

He plops into the armchair, glancing down at Anna’s drawing. “Are these fairies unionized yet? You’ve got them working pretty hard.”

“Dad, look! My unicorn’s got six legs.” Anna giggles, showing Richard her drawing.

“I used to have six legs,” Richard says, pretending to cry. “But your mom made me give up the extras when we got married.”

Anna blinks once, then twice, looking at her mom and then her dad, trying to process this outrage. “Why?”

“She said it wouldn’t be fair to all the other guys at work. I’d always be able to run the fastest.”

Anna considers this and then shakes her head vehemently. “You’re telling fibs.”

“Am not,” Richard says. “They’re in the attic with your tail. Come on, I’ll show you.”

With that, he scoops a giggling Anna into his arms and carries her out of the room.

Lily crawls across the couch, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Can you stay the night, Aunt Rachel?”

“You should,” Mom says.

“We could have pancakes tomorrow!”

After meeting Chloe, pancakes have a new place in my heart as the go-to food for big moments, and today certainly measures up as one of my biggest. Lily couldn’t have offered a better suggestion. I glance up at Claire. “Only if the kitchen’s open for syrup-fueled chaos.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “I’ll make the batter, if you flip.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, I feel folded back into the world and family I used to orbit but never made time for. No expectations. No pressure. Just warmth, laughter, and two chocolate-mustachioed kids who think I hung the moon.

The evening winds down in a slow, syrupy blur of bath bubbles, pajamas with teddy bears, and the ritualistic hunt for Anna’s missing sock, which somehow ended up in the toaster. Anna was inconsolable for about twenty minutes when Richard was unable to locate his confiscated legs, or Anna’s tail, in the attic—but countless promises to look again properly in the morning eventually placated her.

I follow the girls up the stairs, their little feet thumping like a herd of elephants on the carpeted steps.

“We want you to read the story,” Lily announces as we reach the landing. “Daddy always skips pages.”

“I do not,” Richard calls from downstairs.

I suppress a grin. “Well, lucky for you, I’m wide awake.”

The girls scramble into bed, surrounded by a menagerie of stuffed animals. I settle between them with the chosen book—some vibrantly illustrated tale involving magical ponies and glittery maps—and read in my best dramatic voice.