Ten years later
“Sorry I’m late,” I call as I run into the living room. “Got caught up in the studio.”
“Shhh…” Jensen replies as he points to the sleeping toddler currently taking up residence on his chest. Maya doesn’t sleep well at night, and never has since she was placed with us over a year ago, so we take these naps when we can get them.
Tiptoeing closer, I brush her tight black curls from her forehead and kiss her softly. “Damn, she sure is cute,” I whisper.
Jensen pulls back to stare at her pouty lips on his chest. Stroking her back, he smiles with love in his eyes. “She really is.”
The foster system placed Maya with us, along with her brother Milo, fifteen months ago. We’re already in the process of adopting them, but from experience, we know we have a long road ahead.
I made Jensen promise me that after this adoption is finalized, this is it. Four is enough. We have to be done.
He promised, but I’m not sure I buy it. We joke about wanting more, but honestly, seeing him as a father is compelling enough. I’d give him a hundred kids if he wanted them. When I see him with ours, I know he was made for this. I regret that he didn’t get a sooner start, and I often think about how close we came to never having this.
But I won’t look back in fear. I only look forward in gratitude.
“Da-da, sit down!” Milo calls. “We’re almost ready!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I say as I toss a stuffed animal off the couch and plop down across from Jensen.
An old floral sheet hangs from a rope strung across the living room. Behind the sheet, ten-year-old Sami and five-year-old Milo are whispering frantically to each other.
Milo sticks his head out with a bright smile. “We’re almost ready.”
Jensen and I laugh before I glance around the living room and notice someone is missing. “Where’s Maddox?”
“Where do you think?” Jensen replies, turning his eyes up to the second floor of the house.
I rise from the couch and start toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
“Good luck,” Jensen replies with a smirk.
When I reach the second level, I turn down toward Mad’s room at the end of the hall. We had this rustic farmhouse built eight years ago. It was far too big for the two of us, so we made quick work of trying to fill it.
Over the years, we’ve housed and cared for dozens of kids who’ve come and gone. Even for a short time, I wanted to give them a happy home full of laughter, music, family, and love.
Shortly after we started fostering, they placed Sami with us. She was a bubbly little girl that my mother says is just like me when I was little. When she became eligible for adoption, we couldn’t file the paperwork fast enough. She belongs with us.
It was a while later before we fostered again. The two years when it was just the three of us were so special. Our family was new and being fathers was the greatest feeling on this planet.
We opened our family again when Sami turned five, and that’s when we got Maddox.
“Incoming,” I say after knocking on his door. I press it open to find an empty bedroom with the latest emo band blaring on the speakers. “It smells like body spray and Doritos in here,” I call, but there’s no reply. That’s when I notice the open window and the cool breeze blowing into the room.
Peering my head out, I find fifteen-year-old Maddox sitting alone on the slanted roof with a look of determined bitterness on his face.
“Hey, kid,” I say softly.
“Don’t tell Dad I’m out here,” he mutters indignantly.
“You realize I am one of your dads, right?” I ask as I climb out the window and take a seat on the roof next to him.
“Yeah, but you’re the cool one.”
“Thanks,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. “I will gloat about that for years to come.”
He chuckles. Then it’s quiet.
“Anything you want to talk about?” I ask.
He shrugs. “No. I’m just in a bad mood.”
I nod in understanding. “That’s fair.”
Maddox has a lot of bad moods. Understandably, he’s had a rough start in life, and even when they dropped him off, I could see the resentment in his eyes. Resentment toward a world that handed him an unfair deal.
I know that look all too well. But the moment I realized the life I was given was unjust, I ran from it, which is my biggest fear with Maddox. I worry he’ll think he could do it on his own or that we could never understand the things he’s going through. I know how that feels because I was once in those shoes. Maddox reminds me so much of a young Isaac, so full of spite and loneliness.
How do I hold him close while giving him room to grow at the same time? I want to smother him with love, but I know if I do, it’ll make him fight even more to leave. All Jens and I can really do is love him and give him a family that supports him no matter what. But the fear never really goes away.
“I get it,” I reply nonchalantly. “I get in bad moods, too. When I was your age, I hated my home so much I ran away and never looked back. And you know what I found?”
“Let me guess,” he huffs with annoyance. “You’re gonna tell me how terrible it was to try and scare me from doing it.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, actually, it was awesome. It made me stronger and more independent and taught me how to work hard for what I want.”
Maddox glares at me with his brows pinched together. “What is wrong with you? Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you have something I never did,” I reply.
“Two annoying dads?”
“Very funny.” I shove him playfully on the shoulder. “No, two parents who accept you exactly the way you are, moods and all.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Also, a dad with lots of money and good connections who could find you before you cross county lines.”
“I’m not gonna run away, okay?” His tone is argumentative and hostile, but that’s just what I’ve come to expect from Maddox. He’s at that age, and I assume he’ll grow out of it someday. Or maybe he won’t, and I can send him to my brother Luke’s house so they can be grumps together.
“Good. Because my point is…you don’t have to. You can have as many bad moods as you want, but you do have to stop climbing onto the roof alone. If you fall off, your dad will lose his mind.”
I sling an arm over his shoulders and pull him toward me for a hug.
“We love you, Mads.”
He rests his head on my shoulder for a brief second. “I love you, too.”
The moment is wonderful but ends too quickly.
Trying to remain aloof and cool, I climb back into his bedroom. I give him a stern glare, and he finally rolls his eyes and climbs back in behind me.
“Thank you,” I say before heading to the door.
He drops down onto his unmade bed and picks up a video game controller.
Before leaving, I lean in and add, “If you’re interested, we’re going to watch Milo and Sami put on their show in the living room. You probably don’t want to, though. That’s fine.”
I smile to myself all the way back down to the couch where Jensen is sitting without a toddler on his chest. He must have successfully put Maya down in her crib, which is a miracle worth celebrating.
He’s helping Milo tuck in his shirt as he looks over at me. “Is he coming?”
“I give it two minutes,” I reply.
Jensen smiles at me. Once Milo’s shirt is tucked, he disappears back behind the curtain. I scoot closer to my husband, cuddling my head into the crook of his arm.
“How’s the album coming?” he mumbles.
“Good, so far,” I reply as I kick my feet up on the ottoman. “We’re on track to finish by the end of the year.”
“That’s great, babe,” he replies, kissing me softly on the side of the head.
The last couple of years have been busy with so many new projects and developments. I’ve taken up a new role as producer, helping to bring new artists to the country music scene. More artists like me, of course. Now, I’m recording my fifth album, and it feels like a dream come true.
Jensen is still at Redemption Point, but he doesn’t go in as often as he used to. He’s still the senior preacher on staff, but there are enough people under him to keep it going. He’s taken up more of a role with the kids, although we’re privileged enough to have a lot of help between nannies and my mom, who loves to watch them when she can.
Jensen’s fingers link with mine, the two wedding bands next to each other as I turn to smile up at him, love exploding in my chest. With a gentle smirk, he kisses my forehead.
It’s almost criminal how much hotter Jensen has gotten since turning fifty. He’s grown more gray around the ears in the past few years, and I love it.
And I thought he had the sexy daddy vibes before…
“Okay, kids, we’re ready! Your audience is waiting,” I call.
Milo and Sami whisper to each other before one of them pushes the curtain open and they both step out. Sami has a guitar strung over her shoulder, and Milo is holding the microphone.
Sami plays a couple of chords, but when I notice her finger placement, I whisper a couple of cues to help her fix it. With her side-parted blonde hair draped over one eye—because she likes it that way—she beams up at me and continues to play.
Milo sings while Jensen records it on his phone.
A moment later, I see a figure descending the stairs. Maddox tries not to look too enthusiastic as he sits down on the opposite sofa, watching his siblings with a flat expression on his face.
More than once, I catch his mouth twitching with a smile, but he successfully hides it.
When Milo and Sami’s song ends, we clap and cheer for them, even Maddox. Sami is beaming with pride. I see so much of myself in her, and I know that if she sticks with it, she will do amazing things one day.
As we all cheer for the kids, Maya cries from the next room. When I move to get her, Maddox puts a hand up. “I’ll get her.”
Jensen and I look at each other with surprise.
Maddox comes back a moment later with the two-year-old in his arms. But instead of sitting on the opposite couch, he plops down right next to us. His icy cold demeanor thaws as he kisses Maya’s cheek and places her on his lap. He holds her while the other two play another song, this one much messier than the first, but we clap and cheer just the same.
It’s one of those brief moments that I know we’ll always remember. One of those instances where life is truly perfect. I share a home with my soul mate and best friend. I have four perfect kids. Our home is filled with love.
The lyrics and songs pour from me now. I am surrounded by my passions: music and family.
These are the things people write songs about, and I have. These are the moments where I thank God for the mistakes I’ve made and the choices that led me here.
These are the moments when I realize that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
