Page 117 of Jacob

I pick up one of the scarves and wave it in the air. “I give in. I can’t take it.” All six of us lie panting on the floor. Even little William.

“That was so much fun. Can we do it again tomorrow, Mommy?” Catherine asks sweetly.

I sit up and look around at my incredible family. Three white-blonde girls, Catherine, aged four, Elsa, now six, and Aurora, nine; all princess names Skye loved. Having just turned two years old, William, also a proper prince’s name, is going to be so well protected by his loving sisters.

Holding her out-of-breath chest, Skye looks at Catherine. “Absolutely. But I think William should be the knight. Dad didn’t do a very good job, did he? He left you to fend for yourselves.”

Elsa looks at me suspiciously. “I’ll be the knight tomorrow. I will save the queen.” She’s such a serious kid.

“No, me, me, me.” William struggles to his feet in his costume. When he stands up his dragon headpiece is covering his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him running out of the kitchen in the direction of the playroom and the girls all race after him, calling dibs on who is going to be the knight tomorrow.

I move onto my side and prop myself up. “Well, that was fun.”

Skye chuckles. “I’m reliving my childhood vicariously through our children.” She loves this princess stuff and now she has William, who loves nothing better than dressing up as a dragon, knight, or a prince.

Positioning myself on top of her, I rest myself between her legs. She looks at me with warm eyes and smiles.

“Hey, Butterfly.”

She gives me a small, almost shy “Hi” in return.

“I missed you today.” I kiss the end of her nose.

“You miss me every day.”

“I do. I should work from home.”

“You wouldn’t get anything done.” She rolls her head against the shiny floor, causing her long hair to fan out across the tiles.

She finally grew her hair back, making her look exactly like she did in high school. Choosing to wear it down almost every day instead of her space buns, which she reckons she is too old for now, although I disagree, she still looks so much younger than her years.

Around five times a year, Skye travels all over the world delivering keynote talks about what happened to her, and how she’s overcome her trauma. Her attack changed her life and career forever, but she used it to create a positive personal transformation. Going with her to every talk, I can see that she doesn’t just engage the audience, she energizes and inspires them. She’s a survivor.

It’s coming toward the end of the summer break and Skye hasn’t managed to write or illustrate one single thing. She said she didn’t want to, choosing to be a full-time mom for every summer and school break. She’s a wonderful, fun, and attentive mother.

“Two weeks then they go back to school and William starts daycare for a few days a week.” I assure her she will get back to work soon.

“I don’t want him to; I like him playing in my office while I’m working.” Her face falls, looking sad. She’s mentioned this a few times. She doesn’t want him to grow up too fast. She thinks the girls have, and she doesn’t like it one bit.

“But think of all the books you can write now. You have the next ten books to plot out.”

Her face lights up. “I’ve already had a great idea for it. I want to do a princess series.”

Of course she does.

“Right, Mrs. Clever Best-Selling Author, it’s time to get ready for date night.”

Every Friday or Saturday evening we go out, just the two of us, to the movies, or the theater, giving us a chance to catch up with family life but also remind ourselves that this is how we started, just me and her.

“I have a new dress.” Her eyes shine and she looks excited to get dressed up.

“Good, now go and put it on…” I kiss her on the mouth. “…and forget the panties.”

“Don’t ever change; don’t ever stop wanting me, Jay.”

“Never.”

“Why are we at the office?” Skye runs her hands over her aqua-blue silk evening gown as we ride up to the tenth floor of the Baxter and Bain building. The one my father gave to me not long after Skye and I married, when he handed me the reins of Baxter and Bain.

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