Page 110 of Fielder's Choice

Sage nods happily with a big, toothy grin. “Daddy says I pwetty!”

I scoop her off the ground and hold her in my arms as she squeals. “Because you are pretty,” I say, tickling her side as she tries to break free of my hold.

“She looks just like her daddy,” Olive adds with a slight chuckle.

I position Sage on my hip and raise my eyebrow. “You saying I’m pretty, Ballerina?”

“Your ego knows no bounds,” she replies dismissively, but her cheeks still flush.

Sage places her hands on my cheeks and turns me to face her. “Daddy pwetty.”

I can’t help but smile as I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, Lovebug.” I glance over at Liv and speak lowly. “What do you think about Olive?”

Sage lights up in excitement. “Owive pwetty, too!”

Olive walks over with the brightest smile on her face. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

When she places a soft kiss on my daughter’s cheek, I practically melt.

This is the family I’ve wanted Sage to have.

Olive is the one we’ve been waiting for.

When I throw the last bit of the streamers into the trash can, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, my home is officially de-purpled.”

Olive throws her head back and laughs before she slides onto my kitchen island. “I’ve never seen so much purple before today.”

Sage’s entire party was purple.

Purple streamers, purple decor, purple plates and silverware.

It’s like a purple tornado swept through.

She’s even wearing her new purple pajamas to bed right now.

“My daughter sure knows what she likes,” I chuckle as I reach for the bottle of wine on my counter. I grab two glasses and slide in next to Olive on the island.

“You’re a good dad, Lane,” she smiles.

I lean over and kiss her softly. “Thank you, Liv.”

“What’s with the wine?” she asks, gesturing to the bottle still in my hand.

I smile at her. “You helped a lot today, so I thought you deserved something nice. This is the same wine we had on our date last month.”

“The French burgundy?”

“That’s the one,” I say, popping the cork using the corkscrew I keep in the island drawer. “You loved it.”

“I did,” Olive grins. “That’s really sweet, Lane.”

“You deserve good things, baby.”

I pour two glasses for us and set the bottle down on my other side.

“Should we toast?” she asks.

“What do you want to toast to?” I question.

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