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So, every birthday, she bakes. She’s become quite good at it. If she wasn’t invaluable at Wilder Builds, she’d take Cherry on a run for her money.

Mom appears with a knife for Faye as Mabel bounces in her chair beside me. “Can we do presents after cake?”

“Of course, we can,” Doug tells her with a ruffle of her hair, which she immediately straightens.

Shy chuckles, holding her little one on her hip as Elijah sits with their four-year-old.

I’m pretty sure they’ll try again for a girl. Elijah loves Shy pregnant and Shy loves being pregnant. Faye thinks she’s crazy for it, but unlike Faye, Shy doesn’t spend months hugging the toilet.

I talked about number three when Mabel was born, but Faye told me she hadn’t had enough time to forget pregnancy yet.

“The biggest piece is for Daddy,” Mabel tells Faye as she slides the knife into the cake. “Because he’s the birthday boy.”

Faye smiles at our daughter as she hands me the big piece. Then she hands Mabel another piece, “Will you help me pass these around?”

Mabel beams at the task, taking the plate and heading for Shy and her littles. Mabel taps out halfway through handing out cake when a piece looks too good to resist, and Owen takes over.

I shoot him a wink of thanks when he catches my eye, because he’s always picking up where Mabel leaves off. Always willing to help around the house, mowing the lawn, watering Faye’s flower jungle, vacuuming when Duke tracks dirt through the house on his paws, shovelling the mountain of snow from the driveway...

He’s a good kid. A real good kid.

I couldn’t be more proud of him.

As soon as Mabel is finished with her cake, she slides her shiny pink wrapped present in front of me. I wing up a brow as I ask, “This for me?”

“Yes.” She smiles that smile that twists my heart all around her little finger. “It’s your birthday, silly.”

“Well, I better see what it is, then, shouldn’t I?”

She nods excitedly and I slide my finger under the wrap, tearing into it. I find a pink bedazzled heart-shaped charm engraved with ‘best daddy ever’ hanging from a pink silk ribbon.

Faye lets our kids pick out their own presents for me. She always has and always will. I’ve always loved every single one. Even the pink bedazzled charms.

Her smile stretches wider. “It’s for your truck.”

“It’s perfect.” I pull her onto my lap, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’ll hang it first thing Monday morning.”

Mabel likes everything bright and shiny and colorful, and I love everything Mabel.

Owen hands me another present, but this one is wrapped in blue. He gives me a small smile that says he’s feeling a little shy, a little exposed. My son is a contradiction. He’s great on the field, truly exposed. But in the more intimate settings, he can get uncomfortable under attention.

I make no fuss as I tear into his gift with Mabel on my lap, waiting eagerly to see what’s inside. And my throat closes around emotion as I hammer engraved with one word, ‘Dad’ and a simple pendulum keychain engraved with ‘strong man’.

“Because you can fix anything,” Owen tells me quietly.

I run the pad of my thumb over the words as I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. When I look up at him, I see that hint of man in the set of his jaw that I saw over ice cream on my tailgate.

“Thanks, son.” I close my fist around the keychain before I lift my arm to flex my bicep. “Strong man.”

“The strongest,” he says with all the faith in the world.

I nod. “That’s me.”

So why am I so afraid?

41

SIXTEEN MONTHS