ran her fingernails lightly along Kade’s limbs. Sometimes this got him to settle down.
“Good thing you’re cute, kid,” Erik said, yawning. All he did these days was stumble around and yawn. He’d feel more alert on a Benadryl drip.
“Da,” Kade said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Erik said. “Don’t sweet-talk me.”
“Da da da,” the boy sang. He put his cheek on Daisy’s chest and she scratched his back.
“This is nap time,” she said. “We love nap time.”
“I see Kirsten napping nicely,” Erik said. “Who else is napping nicely?”
“Da,” Kade said.
“Da is not napping,” Erik said. “Because Kade won’t go to sleep. Ever.”
But then, thank God, Kade yawned and pressed a fist to his face.
Erik reached to curve his hand around the baby’s head, stroking a thumb between his eyes. “You just think life is amazing, don’t you?”
“He’s too happy to sleep,” Daisy said, yawning.
Erik went on caressing his son’s forehead, suffused with an exhausted, content peace. Knowing now the first soul had been too big for one body. Nothing was wrong with Kees’s ride—it just didn’t have enough seats.
You broke and left, but then you came back.
Because you were meant to be mine.
On top of his heart, Kirsten sighed.
“Da,” Kade said.
Your heart is huge, Erik thought. Your love will be amazing.
Feel all of it.
Kade smiled. Under his father’s touch, the tiny eyelids closed for longer and longer until at last, they stayed shut.
Erik’s own thick eyes drooped as he looked at Daisy. Her shirt stained with milk, drool and bits of lunch the twins had thrown at her. Her hair half-falling out of its bun, an earring missing, her eyes smudged with fatigue. The gold fish and the pearl neatly nestled in the hollow of her throat. Kade’s mouth moving against her collarbone, sucking in his sleep.
This is my forever.
“You so much,” he said, drifting off.
A last flash of blue-green before she closed her eyes, tilted toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. “So much you.”
The hummingbird zipped past the porch again. It floated on the air, its sleek body suspended between blurred wings. For a moment it gazed at the sleeping Fiskares through the screen. Then, with a last green-gold flicker, it flew away toward the lake.
I WRITE STORIES FROM LIFE, and the following people may or may not be aware they contributed to this book:
Dawn Valzania, who suggested less angst and more banging the manny.
Julianne Pressman, who drew a line and is always on my side.
Amy Alt, who helped me get Erik to Canada.
David Cramer, who ate all the maraschino cherries at Mary Laqueur’s wedding.
Mary Laqueur Holt, who was a vision in her wedding gown.
Christine Wiita, whose copy of National Geographic: Drives of a Lifetime introduced me to the Finnish colony of Peñedo and gave me an idea.
Bill Webb, who showed me how to set the proper DMX value for the automated lighting fixtures.
Rob MacKechnie, for his impeccable taste in wedding favors.
Dawn Curran, who did amazing damage control after Poltergeist.
My sister-in-law Janine, for her patient answering of a thousand IVF questions.
Corinne Videla, who had a Lucky to get right in bed with her and hold the pieces together.
Kathy McNamee, whose voice is set in her son’s presence forever. Her dignified grace and courage and her fierce love for Matt shaped Christine Fiskare like nothing else.
The SLQR Advance Read Army. If I lose you, my stories will die.
My editor, Becky Dickson. When I write, I can hear you.
My stylists: Tracy Kopsachilis, who makes my books beautiful on the outside and Colleen Sheehan, who makes them beautiful on the inside.
The IABB community who is a priceless source of support, humor and friendship.
Emma Scott, author and friend, whose sound, fearless feedback made me dig deeper.
Alleskelle Fraser, for pardoning my French.
Rach Lawrence, for reading what I write.
Ami, because not everything has to be a thing. (Literally.)
Stacie, my gold medal wingman.
My irrefutable fract, Fank.
My grandfathers Ernest and David. My grandmothers Lena and Clara.
My parents, for life and its collection of perfect moments.
My brother, whose saving grace is believing in love.
My husband JP, who proposed in the kitchen. (Him so much.)
My daughter Julie, who looked into my eyes while she was being born and made me see the past and future.
And my son, AJ, who was meant to be mine. He just caught a bad ride the first time around.
SUANNE LAQUEUR’S DEBUT novel The Man I Love won a gold medal in the 2015 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards. Its other accolades include the 2015 Beverly Hills Book Award, a gold medal at the 2015 eLit Awards, and was a finalist in the 2015 Kindle Book Awards.
Laqueur graduated from Alfred University with a double major in dance and theater. She taught at the Carol Bierman School of Ballet Arts in Croton-on-Hudson for ten years. An avid reader, cook and gardener, she started her blog EatsReadsThinks in 2010. She lives in Westchester County, New York with her husband and two children.
With The Man I Love and its companion novel, Give Me Your Answer True, Laqueur has gone from choreographing dancers to choreographing words. Her goal is to create a new kind of emotionally-intelligent romance that appeals to the emotions of all readers, crossing gender, age and genre. Visit her at www.suannelaqueur.com.