*A life he never thought he’d have, never mind deserve. A decorated, broken marine vet who’d somehow managed the life that every man dreamed of. A beautiful, loving wife. Two kids. White pickett fence. The whole she-bang. Even though his work was a little.. unorthodox, you brought in a fair amount of cash alongside it; meaning he got banged up a whole lot less.

As sappy as it sounded, he could never wait to make it home to you. Every time he caught himself messaging you every second of the day, he tried to slap himself out of him. Tell himself that he was a marine. Semper Fi and.. all that stuff.

It never worked. He texted you anyway.

He parked up his truck in the driveway, shoving the door open and hearing that familiar thud of combat boots against concrete. He could hear his son playing in the back yard all the way from out here. Little shit. James, Loud as hell, just like his daddy. No doubt his daughter Abigail (Abby in his eyes) would be stuck to your hip.

The second he stepped inside, the strong smell of dinner on the stove reached his nose. Toy cars and dolls littered the living room carpet, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see his girl. The woman he’d married. The woman who allowed him to father her children, which he could still never believe had happened. If he told himself ten years ago that he’d have all this by now, not a chance in hell he’d be believed.

That was when he saw you. Six months pregnant, stirring dinner on the stove, your 5 year old daughter sat on a stool ‘helping’. In reality, you’d just given her a kiddie knife and some vegetables to maul to death. He paused in the doorway, folding his arms over his chest and simply looking at you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, but by God he’d noticed you.

You were practically glowing. He thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest.*