Page 57 of Single Mom for the Firemen

“Well, I think this calls for a toast to our future.”

“A toast,” Killian agrees, and he taps his bottle against hers. Mason leans in and does the same. And then finally, I join them, touching my bottle to the other three.

“To us,” I announce, and we all take a drink. And in that moment of silence afterward, I know what we’re all thinking—I know we can all feel it. The change. That sensation like nothing will ever be the same again.

But it’s only going to get better from here on out.

29

VANESSA

“Oh my God, her lunch!”

I gasp as I spring to my feet and dart into the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards to remember where I put Callie’s packed lunch this morning. I can’t let her go off to school with nothing to eat, what will people think of me…?

“Hey, hey,” Killian intercepts me before I can go crashing through the rest of the drawers. “It’s already in her backpack. Remember?”

He taps the backpack on the table before us, a reminder of what I already know. Of course, he’s right—my head is just so overstuffed from Callie’s first day at school, I can’t help but let some things slip.

Killian hugs me for a moment, drawing me against him as though he knows that I’m having a hard time controlling myself.

“Hey, you’re all good,” he promises me. “She’s going to do great today. Okay?”

“Okay,” I breathe back, pressing my head into his chest and inhaling his scent deeply. It’s funny how quickly someone can become your safe space—how soon they can become the person you feel like you can tell anything to. And I’m lucky enough to have not just one, but three, which is at least the amount I need to make sure Callie’s first day of school goes smoothly.

Killian draws back from me, and I look past him toward the stairs, where Callie is coming down with Jake at her side. She’s beaming from ear to ear, but I can’t help but feel a pang in my chest when I realize how grown-up she looks.

“Oh God, I can’t believe my baby girl is going to school…”

I rush toward her, fussing with her hair, checking that her uniform is all in place—she looks adorable, I have to say. The clothes she has to wear to her first day are the cutest thing—the little red pants and tucked-in red shirt.

“I’m fine, Mom!” she protests, squirming away from me, and I pull a face at her.

“I’ll tell you when you’re fine,” I shoot back, but I step back from her, planting my hands on my hips. “Have you got everything, sweetheart? How are you feeling? You feeling good?”

Jake, sensing my nerves, reaches out to give my hand a squeeze. “She’s doing great,” he assures me softly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Truly.”

“I know,” I breathe, and I smile down at her. “You ready? Let’s grab your bag and get going, baby!”

She takes my hand and the two of us head toward the door, and I bite back a little wave of emotion that threatens to get the better of me. I can’t believe this is finally happening. I could never haveimagined that these would be the circumstances that she started school under, but hell, if this is what the universe wants, then this is what it’s going to get.

I help her into the guys’ car—Killian is driving us in. Jake and Mason want to come too, of course, but we figured it would likely draw too much attention to her on her first day if she turned up with three dads who also happen to be brothers. No, that’s more drama than she needs.

“You have a great first day,” Mason tells her, pulling her into a hug.

Jake gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Yeah, I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back,” he says, and the two of them step back to wave us off.

Callie waves frantically until they’re out of sight, and then she flops down into the seat, a smile on her face.

I glance over my shoulder at her—and I can’t help but feel a smile echoing hers on my lips. Even though it’s been a few months since the attack on the house, she has already been doing so much better. Lara got in touch with a child therapist who she knows through work, and it’s such a relief to know that Callie’s got someone else she can confide in if she needs to.

And now, here she is, excited for her first day of school. Back when I first had her, I imagined this day, of course—but I pictured her father at my side, the man who helped me bring her into the world. Of course, it hurts to know that he’ll never get to see it—I know he would be so damn proud of her and everything she’s done, even though she’s just five.

But she has so much love in her life; it’s not as though she’s lacking anything. The way these three dote on her, and the wayshe adores them right back, her life is so utterly filed with love everywhere she turns, just the way I always wanted it for her.

We pull up outside the school, and what feels like a hundred parents are already crowded around this place, all of them bidding farewell to their little ones for the day.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry,” I mutter, quickly swiping away the tears with my fingertips before my daughter sees them. I don’t want to make this about my emotions, not when I know how important this is for her. She deserves to focus on herself, and I know if she sees me crying, she’ll spend the rest of the day wishing there was more she could have done to make me feel better.

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