Abby glanced at Hudson like she wanted to say something.
“Hey, you okay?” Hudson asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.
She nodded slowly, then looked at me. “Mommy, where’s my daddy?”
I stilled in my place, unsure what to say. After a few seconds, I went for the truth. “I’m not sure, sweetie.”
“Why doesn’t he want to be my daddy?” she asked, breaking my heart.
Again, I told her the only truth I could give her. “Not everyone is meant to be a mom and a dad.”
Her nose scrunched up, and I knew she didn’t get it. But before I could try to explain, Hudson spoke up.
“Every baby is a gift,” he explained. “Some gifts we keep for ourselves, and other gifts we give to others. Like on your birthday, when everyone brings you gifts.”
“So, I’m a gift?” she asked, her little brow furrowing.
“The best gift your mom and I have ever been given,” he told her, kissing her forehead.
“Am I a gift, too?” Presley asked.
“A very special gift,” Hudson said to her, making her beam.
“Can you be my daddy?” Abby asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely,” he told her without a second thought.
From that day forward, Abby called him Dad, and a few weeks later, Lucas and Presley started calling me Mom. There wasn’t a discussion that took place. It just happened naturally.
While the pancakes and bacon are cooking, Hudson slices up some watermelon and strawberries and sets them in a bowl in front of me so I can snack while he makes breakfast.
A few minutes later, Presley joins us. She does the same thing her sister did, kissing her dad on the cheek, muttering good morning, and stealing some chocolate chips. This time he’s ready, though, and the second her hand goes into the bag, he swats it with the spatula playfully.
“Hey,” she grumbles, glaring at him.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” he tells her, going back to cooking.
She looks like she’s going to walk away, but right before she does, she turns around quickly and swipes a handful, running away while cackling. Hudson tries to grab her, but she gets away.
“I’m going to take a shower!” she calls out. “Let me know when breakfast is ready.”
“Morning,” Lucas says, stumbling in half-asleep. “Smells good. I’m starved.” He reaches for his phone that’s sitting on the counter since they’re not allowed to take them to bed with them, and plops on the stool on the other side of me, most likely texting his new girlfriend good morning.
A little while later, my parents come out, wishing everyone a good morning and letting us know they’re going to go for a walk and to have breakfast at the café up the beach.
As Hudson is setting the food on the table, Presley joins us, freshly showered and in her bathing suit and cover-up. Lucas grabs everyone a drink while I set the table.
As I watch everyone dig into their food, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. My entire world is right here, under one roof.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn slightly, snapping a quick picture.
“I’d stop taking selfies with the food and eat it before these vultures inhale it first,” Hudson warns.
“I wasn’t taking a picture of the food,” I say with a laugh, pulling the photo up. When I show it to him, he smiles a soft smile and nods, no doubt seeing what I see.
It’s a picture of our family.
Of our life.
Of what love looks like.