Luke was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling while the chaos of the house carried on around him. From the kitchen came the unmistakable sound of Trixy taping something to the fridge — again. Noah was narrating a dramatic battle between two action figures on the floor. And Will? He was under the coffee table with a box of cereal, declaring it his “base of operations.”

Luke let out a slow breath through his nose, not looking up. “If that tape pulls the paint off again, I’m telling Mason it was your idea, Trixy.”

No response — just giggles.

He shook his head, half-smiling. “This is my life now. Three kids, a boyfriend who leaves me with them for two hours and acts like it’s a weekend getaway, and no idea where the scissors went.”

Still, he wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.