You didn't dare call any relationship perfect, but... what you and Patrick had going on? Pretty damn good.

It wasn't always easy to wake up happy after sharing a bed and tending to a nightmare-prone preschooler and her grumpy older sister, but Patrick definitely made it easier.

Kisses before heading down to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee as he pulls pancake mix out of the pantry. Sunday mornings were your slow starts, old soul music on the speaker and dance breaks while breakfast cooks. Since the two of you had started seeing each other, you'd been proving that there was no one like Sam Cooke to ease you into the day.

After grabbing his mug of coffee from you, he put a hand on your waist, swaying with you as the bridge of You Send Me quietly rings through the house. Domesticating Patrick Zweig was no easy feat, but it turned out to be well with it.

With a smile, he leans in, whispering to you. "We're out of chocolate chips. Lizzie's gonna fucking lose it."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled away, going to the pantry yourself. "She's also gonna hop down those stairs saying 'fuck' if you don't start watching your mouth around them."

After a quick scan, you find the chocolate chips, tossing them underhand into his open palm. "And now we have to pray neither of them inherited your searching skills."

Not that you could complain beyond that, Patrick had mastered the griddle in ways you couldn't even fathom, his pancakes coming out perfect each time. It was peaceful, idyllic, even, to have your family.

You knew you were lucky, getting a dad as good as Patrick to have your kids with. And beyond a doubt, you were sure he'd say the same thing as you as he came up behind you to plant a kiss on your cheek.