Chapter 30 Traffic was shit. It always was around now, just enough time lost between leaving the office and getting on the interstate to ensure I hit the red lights, construction zones, and people who were clearly lost and didn't know how to merge. But even with the frustration of it, the weight that had clung to my shoulders during my usual drive home before, wasn't there anymore. Not like it used to be. Because going home stopped feeling heavy. Even now, weeks into our new routine, I caught myself thinking about her being there like I wasn't used to it yet, like it still surprised me to have someone waiting for me who wasn't an almost-six-year-old or Margot. Sienna, even confined to bedrest, somehow still found ways to take care of me. I didn't know when or how she was finding the time to do it, but most work mornings, there was a packed lunch waiting for me in the fridge, whether I was going into the office or working upstairs. Each one had a little Post-It note on top, something ridiculous scribbled on it each time. Today's? Don't forget to eat lunch this time, or I'll send an anonymous email to all of your employees with that security camera footage of you doing Zach's dino-dance out back last night. I'd snorted when I read it this morning, and now the Tupperware sat empty on the passenger seat. She'd managed to keep her dry, ridiculous humor, even while stuck horizontal and never fully comfortable, no matter how many fancy maternity pillows I bought her. Some mornings when I checked in on her, I'd find her already awake, scrolling on her phone, hair a mess, legs half-tangled in the sheets. Sometimes she was sick. Sometimes she was still out cold. Every time, though, my chest tightened in that way I wasn't used to with someone who wasn't my kid. I liked coming home to her. When I pulled into the drive, the porch light was on, the faint flicker of the television lighting the window of the downstairs suite. I kicked off my shoes at the door, loosened my tie, and followed the soft trail of Zach's giggles through the hall. He was curled up beside her on the bed, one leg thrown across her knees like he'd claimed her completely. Sienna was propped up against the headboard, hair in a messy bun, laughter bubbling as Zach proudly read a line from the book in her lap with all of the emphasis of a failed theatre kid. He looked up when he saw me, eyes wide. "Daddy!" I grinned, already stepping toward the bed. "Hey, tiger." He launched himself across the mattress and into my arms without hesitation. I caught him mid-air, lifted him against my chest with one arm, and squeezed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He was starting to get too big for this, but neither of us cared. I'd milk it as long as I could. "What book are we on today?" I asked, tossing Sienna a grin before looking down at Zach. Zach's nose scrunched. "I dunno the title." Sienna lifted it from her lap, showing me the cover. "Book three now of Dinosaur Treehouse." "Wow," I said. "Have they actually built the treehouse yet or...?" Sienna snorted. "Nope. Still gathering materials." "They found screws today," Zach chirped. "In the Mesozoic Era? That's impressive," I smirked. Sienna exaggeratedly mouthed, Don't question it. I chuckled and ruffled the top of Zach's hair. "How about you go tell Margot all about it? I need a minute with Sienna." Zach nodded, already wiggling to get down, and the second I let his feet hit the floor, he bolted with a, "Margooooot!" Sienna rolled her eyes as I climbed onto the bed. "Did you eat your lunch today?" "I did," I grinned, shifting until I was beside her, taking Zach's spot, leaning back against the headboard shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "No need to blackmail me." "I wouldn't have to if you just ate your lunches with a normal regularity⁠-" "So, you admit to blackmail? Tsk tsk," I teased. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer, Ms. James." Her eyes narrowed. I kissed her on the forehead, right where her brows had scrunched. "How was today?" I asked softly. "Oh, you know, so eventful," she grumbled. "Finished another show that I barely remember half of. Started another book for myself, then Zach got home. Yours?" "Better, now." My fingers caught a lock of her hair, hooking it behind her ear gently. "You're antsy." "Of course, I am." Her head slumped forward onto my shoulder, her hand fisting in the fabric of my dress shirt. "I did need to talk to you, though." My brow rose. "Shoot." "I'm not trying to overstep," she said carefully, picking her head up just enough to look at me. "But I used to work with kids around Zach's age when I was a teacher's assistant, and... I learned how to pick up on certain things." I shifted, a little more alert. "What kind of things?" She rolled her lips between her teeth. "I've been helping him a lot more with his homework," she said. Her eyes flicked between mine, a little uncertain. "And we've been reading books, obviously. He's smart, Matt. Seriously smart, especially for his age. But he gets... stuck, in weird places. Swaps letters sometimes, guesses words instead of sounding them out. He hides it really well, especially when he's reading out loud, but I've time to really sit with him⁠-" "You think he's dyslexic?" I asked. The words slipped out, easy, calm, unsurprised. But a pang of guilt hit me - I should have noticed that. "...Yeah," she breathed. "That doesn't mean he isn't⁠-" "I know." I cupped her cheek, stroking her skin gently with my thumb. "I'm dyslexic, too." She went utterly still. "Wasn't diagnosed until I was ten. Think it's one of the reasons my parents were so uninterested in me," I said, my jaw tightening for just a second before calming. "I'd been branded as the kid who didn't try hard enough before a teacher caught it. Too lazy, too distracted, too difficult." She didn't say anything for a second, just watched me, her gaze softening. "Zach's not difficult. Neither were you." "I know." I sighed, running a hand down my face. "Fuck, I should have caught this." She shook her head. "No-no. Do not blame yourself. I've been here for weeks with him, and I only just caught it today, and I know what to look for." "Surely, I should too," I said, huffing out a weak laugh that I didn't mean. "I've lived it." "Yeah, forty-odd years ago before you got help." My lips quirked upward. "Do not⁠-" "You're a good dad, Matt," she said, grinning softly, her provocation left to the wayside. "A great one. Don't doubt yourself on that. Zach's lucky to have you, and the girls are too." I looked at her, really looked-tired eyes, bare face, swollen belly, still fucking beautiful-and before I could even think twice, the words slipped out of me. "Yeah, well, they're all lucky to have you as their mom." Sienna blinked at me. The words settled in for both of us, the air shifting, not tense, awkward, or startled, but full. It didn't scare me like I thought it would. We sat in the quiet for a long moment, everything shifting, everything almost slotting into place. I'd always been afraid of this, of family, of depending on someone else and letting them depend on me. No escape hatch. But now, looking at her, seeing the way her lips twitched up, the way she sank into the idea like it felt right... There wasn't a hint of fear in me. The thought of her being Zach's mom was easy. She leaned back against the headboard again, fighting a grin, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't get any stupid ideas that I'm in love with you or anything just because I'm becoming his mom." I laughed, quiet and low, and took her hand in mine. "Wouldn't dream of it." "Good," she smirked, eyes closing. "Because it's definitely not true." My mouth scrunched as I fought back another chuckle. "Of course. You just moved into my house, are helping raise my kid, and are carrying two more of mine. Very normal, platonic arrangement." "Exactly. You get it."