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Razor catches my eye over Luna's head and grins. He's wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, his cut left at home for this trip because he wanted to just be Dad for a week. That's what Luna calls him now, has for the past year, since the day she asked if she could and he'd gotten tears in his eyes and said yes.

Her biological father never reached out. Not once in eight years. Some distant part of me used to worry that he'd show up one day and try to assert his rights, disrupt the life we'd built. But that worry faded a long time ago.

Luna has a father. A real one. The kind who shows up and stays.

We disembark and make our way through the airport. Luna holds Razor's hand and chatters nonstop about everything she wants to do. He listens patiently, answering her questions, promising we'll do everything on her list.

By the time we get to the hotel, a modest but clean place near the park, it's evening. Luna crashes almost immediately after dinner, exhausted from the flight and the excitement.

Razor and I sit on the small balcony of our room, looking out at the lights of Paris in the distance. He's got his arm around me, and I'm tucked against his side, breathing in his scent: the soap he uses, the faint smell of motor oil that never quite washes out, something that's just him.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what?"

"For this. For all of it. For making this happen."

"You worked just as hard as I did to save for this trip."

"I don't just mean the trip." I turn to look at him. "I mean everything. The past two years. The way you love Luna. The way you love me. The way you made it possible for me to go back to school. I never thought I'd have this."

His hand comes up to cup my face. "Neither did I."

"Three more years," I say, smiling. "Three more years and I'll have my degree. I'll be a real teacher."

"You're already real. The degree just makes it official." He kisses my forehead. "And you're going to be incredible at it. Those kids won't know what hit them."

"I hope so. I want to be the kind of teacher I always wished I'd had. The kind who sees every kid and makes them feel like they matter."

"Like you do for Luna."

"Like we do for Luna," I correct. "She told me last week that you're the best dad in the whole world. Better than Emma's dad, and Emma's dad is a restaurant owner."

Razor's eyes get suspiciously shiny. "She said that?"

"She did. And she meant it."

He's quiet for a moment, just holding me. Then he says, "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"It's good. I promise." He takes a breath. "I've been thinking about what I want to do long-term. With the club, with work. Diesel's been teaching me more about mechanics, and I'm good at it. But I was thinking—"

"What?"

"What if I went to school too? Not teaching, like you. But maybe business management or something. So, I could help run Reed's Auto more officially. Maybe even buy it from Diesel someday when he's ready to retire."

I sit up straight to look at him. "Razor, that's… That's amazing. Do you really want to do that?"

"Yeah. I do. I want to build something. Not just for me, but for us. For Luna. For—" He stops, looking suddenly nervous.

"For what?"

"For the kids we might have someday. If you want them."

My heart skips. We've talked about it, hypothetically, in the abstract way people discuss possible futures. But hearing him say it like this, with such certainty, makes it feel suddenly real.

"What do you want?" I ask.