“I wrote down her next four appointments in the log.”

He lifted the lid off the heavy Dutch oven sitting on the back burner.

Steam rose into the quiet air, carrying the scent of thyme and roasted garlic.

June gave a soft chirp from her bouncy seat near the pantry door.

Ethan immediately set the wooden spoon down on the stove rest, washed his hands at the sink with orange soap, and scooped our daughter into his arms.

He cradled her against his chest, humming the low tune he used to ignore when he was buried in his laptop.