Lauren's POV The baby monitor sat forgotten on the kitchen counter, crackling with static and the occasional shriek of delight, because our daughter, Star had discovered that flowers were for pulling apart, not admiring. "Star, no–leave the roses alone, baby." She looked up at me with Julian's eyes. Same stubborn tilt of the chin. Same refusal to listen to a damn thing I said. "No," she repeated back at me, gleeful, and ripped another petal off. I laughed so hard I had to sit down on the garden bench. Two years of this. Two years of chaos wearing tiny shoes, and somehow it still didn't feel real most mornings–like I'd wake up and find out the quiet, ordinary life had been the dream all along. "She gets that from you," Julian said, coming up behind me. "She gets that from you. I don't ignore people. I ignore instructions." "Same thing, in your case." I twisted to glare at him. He was smiling, the real one, the one that used to be rare enough to count and now showed up so often
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