Page 209 of Yearn
The rainbow nightlight painted them in a soft amber glow, and for a moment, I just breathed.
Peace.
Although the mansion had more bedrooms than any family could ever need, the boys only wanted one.
They refused to sleep apart.
Said the mansion was too big, the hallways too long, the ceilings too high. So we gave them the largest room on the third floor and turned it into their shared world—half superhero headquarters, half dinosaur paradise.
A large mural of a rainbow on the ceiling united both sides.
Their matching desks sat side by side beneath the bay window, covered in crayons, plastic figurines, and the beginnings of science projects that needed to be finished by the end of the year.
What a great night.
My chest ached with how full it felt. Nights like this—when everything felt right—made every hard moment in the pastworth it. I didn't know it was possible to feel this grateful and this terrified at the same time.
God, I love them.
J still clutched their plastic stethoscope—the one they'd used to check my heartbeat before bed, declaring me "healthy for tomorrow."
It might be interesting if they decide to be a doctor too.
My very soul hummed at the possibility.
Granted, I would support whatever career decisions they wanted to make in the future.
Oliver's new dinosaur was tucked under his chin, its tail draped across his cheek. He’d named it after me, Dom-a-saurus.
And now soon. . .they’ll have a little brother or sister. I can’t wait to tell them.
The mansion—once empty and cold from my parents’ deaths—now breathed with life again.
Laughter in the walls.
Footsteps on marble.
Tomorrow, there'd be syrup on the breakfast table and arguments over who got that special crystal green bowl with the gold rim. Matilda would be in the kitchen before dawn, preparing their favorite French toast while teaching them new Spanish words they'd mispronounce adorably. There'd be science projects spread across the dining table, scraped knees that needed Matilda's special "besos mágicos," and bedtime negotiations conducted in a mix of English and broken Spanish that made her eyes crinkle with pride.
And Teyonah would be there too, laughing with Matilda, sipping tea, and continuing to make this massive house feel like it had finally found its heart.
Mom would have loved them.
My heart ached, but I knew my parents were smiling as they watched my life unfold.
I thought about that moment tonight when the kids both gave me big hugs and in unison said, “Goodnight, Daddy.”
My eyes watered, but I steadied myself, making sure I wouldn’t cry. “Goodnight and sweet dreams.”
My sweet family.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
I checked it.
Teyonah:The girls are gone. Come to our room, baby.
Mmmm.
