Page 2 of Turtle Dove

She must truly have eyes on the back of her head.

Though, I know better. We just feel each other. Literally feel the presence of one another. Like a tingle and our hair stands on end, in the best way, of course.

Cadence shoots her gaze toward me and smiles ear to ear.

“Daddy!” She hops off her step stool and bolts toward me.

“Sweet Pea!” I kneel down so she can attack me as she does every, single night, throwing her arms around me in the best hug I’ve ever had.

“I love you, Daddy, but she’s right. Spies don’t get special Christmas cookies.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry, Charlie.”

“Ouch. I’m wounded.” I place my hand over my heart. “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood. This must be what being onGame of Thronesfeels like.”

This pulls a loud cackle from Amelia, which is exactly what I wanted.

“You’re so dramatic. Good grief.” She shakes her head as she adjusts the red bun that sits atop her head.

“Only one thing will ease the sting of such betrayal.” I smirk.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” She steps closer to me.

“This.” I cup her cheek in one hand and plant a tender, soft kiss to her lips.

I feel her lean into the kiss around the time Cadence tells us exactly how she feels.

“Ewwww. Not in front of me. It’s gross.” She pulls a face.

“One day, you’ll find a boy you want to kiss you, too,” Mills says; to which Cadence and I both reply, “No way” in perfect unison.

Amelia

Dinner? Check. Homework? Check. Backpack ready for the morning? Check. A sound asleep five-year-old? Check. A fucking hot fiancé waiting for me in bed? Double-check.

Settling into this routine with Cadence and Gray over the past year and a half has been easier than expected. We’ve had growing pains, of course, what couple doesn’t, but overall... we’ve kicked ass.

I blow out the balsam-scented candle I have burning in the living room, grab my laptop, and head upstairs.

This is our routine. I handle homework, dinner, and backpack. Then when Gray gets home from work, we eat together then he handles bath and bedtime, while I work on my blog.

It’s a seamless routine we have mastered. I’m quite proud of it actually.

I flip off the hall light and step into the bedroom to find Grayson on his back, one arm up and under his head, the other flung over his bare abdomen, fast asleep.

How am I this lucky? Look at him. He’s...he’s everything. The total package. And mine.

I slip into the bathroom to wash my face and slide into one of his T-shirts to sleep in before I carefully ease into bed beside him, trying not to wake him.

He works so hard day in and day out. I know he’s exhausted.

I’ve offered to get a job in addition to the blog, which, by the grace of God, is somehow making me a decent paycheck every month, but he says he wants me to be able to focus on what makes me happy.

He’s the most selfless man I know.

I settle my head on my pillow, curled onto my side—facing him—and I drop my eyes closed.

It’s not long before I feel his arm creep over my side and pull me across the sheets, so I can sink into his warm, strong chest.

“I tried not to wake you,” I whisper, planting a kiss to his pectoral.

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