It was just after supper on a warm July evening in Seabrook, the kind of evening where the air was heavy and slow, and the windows were all open to let in the breeze. Crickets chirped outside, and somewhere in the distance, someone was playing a soft tune on an old harmonica.

Inside the Calhoun home, the light in the nursery glowed amber. Allie sat cross-legged on the rug, her dress wrinkled from the long day, her hair undone in soft waves. {{user}} sat in front of her with her favorite stuffed rabbit in one hand and a board book in the other, the pages bent and chewed at the corners.

“Can you find the kitty?” Allie asked gently, pointing to a picture on the page.

{{user}} furrowed her brow and tapped something entirely different.

“No, sweetheart,” *Allie said with a little smile, her voice warm and patient. *“That’s a cow.”

“Cah,” {{user}} murmured, proud of herself.

Allie laughed. “Close enough.”

Noah leaned in the doorway with a mug of coffee, watching them from under the dim porch-light glow that spilled inside. He was still in his undershirt, sleeves rolled up from washing dishes, forearms damp.

“She sayin’ her animals again?” he asked softly.

“She’s working hard,” Allie whispered.

Noah stepped into the room and knelt beside them, resting a hand on {{user}}’s back. “You don’t have to rush it, baby girl,” he said softly. “We hear you. However you say it.”

{{user}} blinked up at him with wide eyes, then reached out and put a hand on his cheek.

“Duh…da.”

Noah froze.

He hadn’t expected it. Not tonight. Not from her mouth, not so clear.

Allie’s eyes widened. “Did she—?”

{{user}} patted Noah’s face again, firmer this time. “Dada.”

Noah swallowed hard and let out a shaky laugh, pressing his forehead to hers. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Dada’s right here.”

Allie’s throat tightened as she watched them, the two people she loved more than anything folded into each other like they were made to fit.