Lennon laughed softly, shaking her head as Wren rearranged another handful of photos like a tiny record exec. “Happy and brave, huh?” she said, smiling. “That’s a pretty good combination. You might’ve just outdone everyone I work with.”

Wren’s grin was immediate, her fingers already tapping one of the prints. “So that’s what it’s called?”

Lennon hesitated, leaning back on her palms. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “I’ve been trying to find something that feels like me. Something that sounds like this.”
She gestured around the room — the scattered prints, the soft afternoon light, Wren humming quietly against her shoulder. “It’s not about perfect anymore. It’s about honest.”

Wren furrowed her brow, thinking hard in that way she did when she took something seriously. Then she looked up, eyes bright. “What about Lenny?”

Lennon blinked, caught off guard. “Lenny?”

Wren nodded, completely sure of herself. “Yeah. ’Cause that’s what I call you,” she said matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “It’s your name but smaller. Like… closer.”

The words landed soft and deep — that kind of innocent truth that hits harder because it’s simple. Lennon felt her throat tighten just a little as she smiled. “Lenny,” she repeated, quieter now, tasting it like a lyric. It wasn’t polished or clever, but it was hers. It sounded like everything she’d been trying to write.

“You know what, kid?” she said after a beat, brushing her thumb over Wren’s cheek. “That might be perfect.”

Wren’s whole face lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” Lennon said. “You just named my EP.”

“Cool,” Wren said proudly, going right back to stacking the photos. “Can I put that one on the cover?”

Lennon followed her finger to the candid shot — her mid-laugh, hair wild, nothing posed about it. “That one?” she asked softly, smiling to herself. “Yeah. I think you just picked the one.”

Wren grinned, leaning back against her. Lennon slipped an arm around her waist, resting her chin lightly on the little girl’s shoulder as the room fell quiet again, full of sunlight and that unspoken ease she still wasn’t used to feeling.

Across the room, Kai was still leaning against the wall, watching them both — that half-smile tugging at his mouth, the kind that made her chest feel unsteady in the best way.

Lennon met his gaze, her voice low but sure. “Guess it’s official,” she said. “Lenny. Named by the only person who ever gets away with calling me that.”

Wren giggled, twisting to look up at her. “Told you I’m good at naming stuff.”

“Yeah, you are,” Lennon murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Remind me to hire you forever.”

And as Wren turned back to her masterpiece of crooked photo piles, Lennon glanced up once more — Kai’s eyes still on her, that quiet, steady kind of pride written all over him.

It wasn’t loud or perfect or staged. But it was real.
And that, she decided, was exactly what Lenny should sound like.

Kai didn’t move for a long moment — didn’t want to, really.

From where he stood, the scene looked like something the world had no right to interrupt. Lennon, hair loose, sunlight curling through it like gold thread. Wren, tucked against her side, humming off-key and rearranging photos like a professional with a very loose grasp on sequencing. And the word Lenny still hanging in the air, soft but certain, like it had always been waiting for her.

He felt the corner of his mouth lift, that small, uncontainable smile that came when something inside him quietly clicked into place.

It figured that Wren would be the one to name it. The kid had a sixth sense for moments that mattered — maybe inherited from him, but if Kai was honest, she’d refined it all on her own. He just stood there, letting the sight of the two of them fill up the parts of him that used to feel empty.

“Lenny,” he repeated under his breath, testing the word himself. It fit her in a way that Lennon Rae never quite did. Lennon was stage lights and interviews, polished edges. Lenny was this — sunlight, laughter, honest mess, the way she looked at Wren like the world finally made sense again.

He let out a slow breath, still smiling.

She caught his eye then, that small proud smile tugging at her mouth, and something in his chest tightened — that old familiar mix of admiration and affection that had become second nature around her.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s perfect.”

Wren, completely oblivious to the weight in the room, was now giving one of the photos a dramatic pep talk about “being brave enough to go on the album.” Kai bit back a laugh, watching the seriousness on her little face. “You’re running a tight ship, kid,” he said lightly. “Gonna have to start paying you royalties.”

Wren gasped. “Like… money?”

“Or cookies,” he amended quickly. “Depends on the label budget.”

That earned him the bright, unrestrained laugh he’d been hoping for, the kind that made Lennon shake her head in mock exasperation — but she was smiling, too, that quiet, unguarded smile that he couldn’t seem to stop memorizing.

Kai pushed off the wall and crossed the room, crouching down beside them, careful not to disturb the sea of prints. Wren immediately grabbed his hand, tugging him closer so he could “help” choose the final pile. He let her, pretending to study the options seriously even though he already knew which one was right.

The candid one. The one that looked like her.

He looked up at Lennon, catching her watching him. Her eyes were soft, bright in the fading light, and for a second, the noise of the world outside felt miles away.

“This one’s it,” he said quietly, nodding toward the photo Wren had picked — the one with her laugh caught mid-breath. “It already sounds like music.”

Lennon smiled, that warm, knowing kind of smile that didn’t need to say thank you out loud.

Wren clapped once, satisfied with herself. “See? Told you I’m good at this.”

Kai laughed, ruffling her hair. “Remind me never to argue with my best producer.”

And as Wren went back to rearranging her “tracklist,” Kai glanced at Lennon again — the way she fit into this quiet, golden afternoon like she’d always belonged in it.

It wasn’t staged. It wasn’t perfect. It was everything.

And as far as Kai was concerned, Lenny already sounded exactly like home.

Lennon smiled faintly, still sitting cross-legged between the couch and coffee table, her fingertips tracing the edges of a few scattered photos. “Best producer, huh?” she murmured, glancing at Wren, who was now giving one of the prints an encouraging thumbs-up. “You realize she’s never going to let either of us forget that.”

Wren perked up at the sound of her name. “That’s because I’m right!” she announced, rearranging the same three pictures for the fifth time. “And I like this one. It feels happy.”

“Happy’s good,” Lennon said softly, her smile warming. “Happy’s kind of the point.”

Her gaze lifted to Kai then, catching him watching her the way he always did when he thought she wouldn’t notice—quiet, steady, that mix of pride and something she didn’t have a word for yet. It made her chest ache in the best possible way.

She nodded toward the photo he’d picked, the one of her mid-laugh. “You’re both right,” she said. “That one already sounds like something.”

Wren leaned back against her, satisfied. “Like Lenny,” she said matter-of-factly, as if she’d just named the stars themselves.

Lennon brushed a strand of hair from Wren’s face, her voice dipping to a whisper. “Like Lenny,” she echoed. “Yeah, I think it does.”

Wren yawned then, small and sudden, her body going limp against Lennon’s side. Within moments, her little hums faded, her breathing slowed, and she’d fallen asleep right there in Lennon’s lap — her curls tangled against Lennon’s arm, fingers still clutching the corner of a photo.

Lennon froze for half a heartbeat, then smiled — soft, instinctive, a kind of tenderness that came from somewhere deep. With a careful motion, she slid one arm under Wren’s knees, the other beneath her shoulders, and stood in one smooth motion that surprised even herself. The little girl barely stirred, just murmured something incoherent and nuzzled closer.

Kai was already there before she could say anything, meeting her halfway. Their eyes met over Wren’s sleeping form — quiet, wordless understanding passing between them — and Lennon gently transferred her into his arms. He took her like he’d done it a thousand times, tucking Wren’s head against his shoulder, whispering something only she could hear as he carried her down the hall.

When he disappeared around the corner, the room felt softer somehow. Still humming with warmth, but quieter. Lennon stood there for a moment, then looked down at the creative chaos spread across the rug — her life in still frames.

She crouched to gather them, stacking prints into neat piles, brushing her thumb over the glossy edges. A few had smudges now, fingerprints she didn’t bother wiping away. Somehow, they felt right — a reminder of what this afternoon had been.

She moved slowly, grounding herself in the motion — photo after photo, laughter still echoing faintly from moments before.

By the time Kai came back, she’d made some kind of order out of the mess. He stopped in the doorway again, watching her as she crouched over the last stack, hair falling forward, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

She glanced up at him, the quiet stretching between them again — easy, familiar. “She’s out?”

He nodded, and Lennon’s smile grew just a little. “Knew it,” she said softly. “The kid runs on pure sugar and stubbornness. Crashes like a rock.”

Her eyes drifted back to the photos spread between them. “Guess Wren was right.”

Lennon picked up the last photo, the one with her laugh caught mid-breath, and set it gently on top of the stack. “Happy and brave,” she murmured. “I think that’s enough.”

And as the last of the light dipped lower through the window, she smiled — not the one for cameras or crowds, but the quiet kind. The kind that stayed.

Kai lingered for a second at Wren’s doorway, just long enough to watch her roll onto her side and curl into the blankets. She always did that—folded herself small like she was tucking the whole world in with her.

He brushed his hand lightly over her hair. “Night, bug,” he whispered. She murmured something in reply, still half in dreamland, and he smiled. “You named a record today. Big day.”

He eased the door almost closed, leaving the usual sliver of hallway light peeking through, then turned back toward the living room.

Lennon was still there, on the rug, the late sun painting everything gold and quiet. She’d made order out of the chaos—of course she had—but there was still a scatter of color and shine around her, like the room had decided to keep a little of the mess on purpose.

Kai stopped in the doorway again, leaning a shoulder against the frame. For a moment he just watched her. There was something about seeing her like this—barefoot, cross-legged, lost in thought—that knocked the air right out of him every time.

He could still feel the weight of Wren against him, that easy trust, that small hum of warmth that didn’t ask for anything. And maybe that was what hit him hardest—the way Lennon had fit so naturally into that moment, like it wasn’t something new, but something they’d all been moving toward without realizing it.

She looked up at him then, and he couldn’t help the smile that found him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, answering the question she’d asked a minute ago. “She’s out cold. Didn’t even make it to the pillow before declaring victory over ducks and photo curation.”

Lennon laughed under her breath, that soft little sound that always did something to his chest.

He walked over, crouching beside her, his hands brushing the carpet as he helped gather a few stray prints she’d missed. “You’ve got fingerprints all over these,” he said, pretending to examine one like a critic. “The collectors’ edition. Limited run, chaos included.”

She smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Kai stacked the last photo—the laughing one—on top and let out a quiet breath. “She was right, though,” he said. “About happy and brave. About this.”

He looked over at her, the golden light catching on the edge of her cheek. “That’s the thing about Wren. She’s got this radar for truth. She doesn’t overthink it. Just points and says, ‘That one.’” He smiled faintly. “You and I could take notes.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, but she didn’t say anything, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It was the good kind—comfortable, solid, the kind that meant you were right where you were supposed to be.

He glanced back at the photos, at the shot she’d picked for the cover—the one Wren had called happy. Brave. Honest. “You know,” he murmured, “I think that’s what people are gonna hear when they listen. Not the polish. Not the production. Just you. The part that laughs in the middle of everything.”

He let his gaze settle on her again, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “That’s the part they’re gonna fall in love with.”

She looked up at him, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Kai smiled again, soft and content, the kind that lived somewhere deep. “Here,” he said, nodding toward the empty space beside her on the floor. “Scoot over.”

When she did, he sat down beside her, shoulder brushing hers, close enough to feel the soft rhythm of her breathing. The quiet wrapped around them again, threaded with the hum of the fridge and the fading sound of the city outside.

He leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting across the photos spread between them. “You ever notice how everything looks better like this?” he asked. “Right before the light goes. Like it’s all just holding on a little longer.”

She didn’t answer, just smiled, and that was enough.

He nudged one of the photos with his thumb. “You know, I could get used to this,” he said, teasing but sincere. “Creative chaos, caffeine, you on the floor surrounded by ideas. Might have to make it a recurring event.”

Her laugh came quiet, easy, and Kai’s grin widened. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I think Wren’s already planning her next A&R session. Probably gonna start charging us snack royalties.”

Lennon shook her head, smiling, and Kai watched her again—really watched her, the way he always did when the world slowed down just enough to let him catch up to it.

The light was fading, but he didn’t reach for the switch. He liked it this way—dim and golden, all edges softened, like the universe had decided to give them a little extra time before the night settled in.

And for once, Kai wasn’t thinking about endings at all.

The front door flew open before Lennon could even get her keys back into her bag.

“Daddy! LOOK!”

Wren shot inside like a glitter-powered comet, half skipping, half sprinting, her little boots clicking dramatically against the hardwood. She skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room and threw her arms out like she was presenting the final number of a world tour.

Lennon stepped in behind her, juggling far too many bags from far too many stores, a pair of sunglasses sliding slowly down her nose. “I swear she started the day with normal human energy,” she said, breathless and amused as she nudged the door shut with her hip. “Somewhere between the glitter bar and the juice stop, she ascended.”

Wren twirled — a full, committed spin — her new outfit sparkling in the afternoon light. Purple tulle skirt. Star-pattern leggings. A sweatshirt with a sequined unicorn whose mane changed color when she swiped it. And a tiny purse shaped like a donut, worn proudly across her chest.

She paused mid-twirl, panting dramatically, hands pressed to her hips. “Lenny said I look iconic.”

Lennon set down three bags, then another two, then one that exhaled tissue paper like it was relieved to be freed. “In my defense,” she said, raising a hand, “I only said it because it’s true. She saw herself in the mirror and said—direct quote—‘I look like a girl with a plan.’ I couldn’t argue with that.”

Wren ran back to Lennon to grab the remaining bags — or at least attempt to — before deciding she preferred being the star of the moment and darted right back into the center of the living room.

She posed again, this time one leg kicked out behind her. “And LOOK!” she announced, reaching up to tap the purple streak now clipped into her hair. “We matched!”

Lennon laughed, tucking a loose strand of her own hair behind her ear where a thin lavender clip glimmered. “Temporarily,” she said under her breath. “She tried to talk me into glitter eyeliner, too. I negotiated my way out with soft serve.”

The bags rustled as she kicked them into a neat pile near the couch. “We might’ve done a little damage,” she admitted, eyeing the shopping haul with a mixture of pride and apology. “But in our defense, she was very persuasive. And very cute.”

Wren marched up to Kai, smoothing the front of her sweatshirt with both hands, chin tipped up with dramatic importance.

“She said I needed an outfit for our girls day,” Wren announced proudly. “And she said girls days need fashion.”

Lennon lifted a brow playfully as she leaned against the entryway wall, arms crossed, watching Wren beam. “She also said girls days need french fries, but I’m guessing she’ll save that part for later,” she added under her breath with a small grin.

Wren took one more breath — preparing clearly for the grand finale — and spread her arms again.

“AND NOW I LOOK AMAZING!”

She waited there, beaming up at him, waiting for him to take it all in.

Lennon just smiled, soft and warm, watching her with that familiar tug in her chest — the one she always felt when Wren shined this bright.

A girls day well spent.

A moment worth coming home to.

Kai had been staring at spreadsheets for so long his brain had started silently begging for mercy.

Budget notes. Draft emails. A scheduling doc that was somehow twelve tabs long even though he’d only opened five. Every once in a while he’d reach for his coffee, realize it was cold, sigh dramatically, then keep typing like the responsible adult he never wanted to become.

He was mid-sentence—Requesting clarification on the third… whatever… blah blah corporate nonsense…—when the front door exploded open.

“Daddy! LOOK!”

Kai barely had time to blink before Wren came blasting across the living room like someone had fed her pure sunshine and glitter for lunch. She was all purple tulle and starry leggings and unicorn sequins, moving like she wanted the world to see every single spark at once.

He never even tried to hide the way his face lit up.

“Whoa—” he exhaled, already closing his laptop, “—whoa. Somebody looks like she had a day.”

Then Lennon stepped in behind her, looking like the battle-worn survivor of a very adorable war. Too many bags. Too much glitter. Sunglasses hanging on for dear life. He couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.

Yeah. This was definitely better than spreadsheets.

Wren spun again, her donut purse bouncing against her hip like backup choreography. “Lenny said I look iconic!”

Of course she did. Because she did.

Kai pushed off the couch and knelt down immediately—right to Wren’s level, always, because she deserved to feel the center of every room she walked into. Especially when she came home looking like a disco ball with opinions.

He rested his hands on his thighs, giving her his full, undivided attention.

“Iconic?” he echoed, eyes going wide with dramatic seriousness. “Kid… ‘iconic’ doesn’t even cover it.”

Wren beamed so hard he thought she might actually levitate.

“I mean—” he gestured in a slow up-and-down sweep “—the skirt alone? Powerful. The unicorn? Life-changing. The donut purse? Honestly? Revolutionary.”

Wren giggled so hard she swayed.

“And the hair?” Kai leaned in, squinting playfully at her purple streak before flicking his gaze to Lennon’s matching one. “Matching with Lenny? That’s… wow. That’s elite. Fashion duo energy.”

He said it lightly, but something warm tightened in his chest.

Because they matched.

Because they got along.

Because Lennon looked at his kid like she was magic, and Wren looked at her like she was already part of the constellation.

It did things to him. Quiet, dangerous things.

Wren tugged his sleeve. “We had a girls day, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling as he reached out to fix the edge of her unicorn sweatshirt. “Looks like you two crushed it.”

He glanced up at Lennon then—taking in the lavender hair clip, the faint glitter smudge on her cheek she probably didn’t know she had, the soft, tired, happy expression warming her whole face.

“Definitely matching,” he said softly, playful but sincere. “I like it.”

Lennon looked down at the pile of shopping bags like she’d been caught red-handed by the fashion police. He smirked, shaking his head.

“You two are trouble,” he said, standing up from his kneel but keeping a hand lightly on Wren’s shoulder. “The very cute kind, but still trouble.”

Wren gasped. “We’re not trouble. We’re FASHION.”

Kai barked a laugh, warm and loud.

“Sorry—my mistake,” he corrected quickly. “You are absolutely fashion.”

He lifted her donut purse, placing it gently so it didn’t tangle. “And you look amazing. Like… stupidly amazing. Like… every duck in the park is going to start a fan club.”

That did it. Wren lit up like a sparkler.

She launched herself into his chest, and Kai scooped her up automatically—one arm under her legs, the other bracing her back as she squealed into his neck.

Lennon watched them with that soft little smile she tried to hide.

Kai glanced at her over Wren’s shoulder—hair messy, arms full of bags, eyes tired but glowing—and something inside him settled.

Yeah.

Yeah, this was the good stuff.

He shifted Wren to his hip and nodded toward the mountain of rainbow bags Lennon's brought in.

“So…” he said, grinning crookedly, “how much damage are we talking here? Like… fun damage? Or ‘Kai needs to sell a kidney’ damage?”

Wren gasped again, outraged on principle.
“DADDY—fashion is IMPORTANT.”

Kai shot Lennon a helpless, deeply amused look.

“Oh, trust me,” he murmured, brushing a loose bit of tulle off Wren’s skirt. “I can tell.”

Lennon could barely get her shoes off before the sight in front of her hit her right in the chest.

Wren, legs wrapped around Kai’s waist, donut purse bouncing against his side, cheeks flushed from excitement, looking like the personification of a confetti cannon. And Kai — laughing, bright, the kind of soft she only ever saw reserved for moments like this.

God.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to melt straight into the hardwood.

She leaned her shoulder against the entryway wall, trying — failing — to hide the smile tugging at her mouth. Her sunglasses slid down her nose again, and she didn’t even bother pushing them back up. She just let herself look.

Wren beaming up at him.
Kai smoothing down her tulle.
The two of them taking up the whole room like they were meant to.

It was stupidly, stupidly sweet.

“Fun damage,” Lennon said dryly, finally stepping forward to offload a few bags onto the couch. “Definitely fun damage. Zero kidney involvement.”

Wren whipped around over Kai’s shoulder, scandalized and proud all at once. Lennon tapped the donut purse lightly. “In our defense, someone found her ultimate fashion destiny at the third boutique,” she said, lifting her brows. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

Wren preened instantly, smoothing her skirt with both hands. Lennon watched her do it — that tiny, confident gesture — and felt something warm and achy uncurl in her chest.

She had no business feeling this full, this settled, this… included.
But here it was anyway.

She reached out and fixed the purple clip in Wren’s hair — the same one she’d insisted they match with. “And she earned every bit of that outfit,” Lennon added softly. “She walked an actual runway. In a juice store. Twice.”

Wren nodded enthusiastically, confirming this important detail.

Lennon laughed under her breath, pushing a stray glitter smudge off her own cheek with the back of her wrist. “We also had fries, painted nails, built a family of stuffed ducks, and she taught an entire Sephora aisle how to do a ‘fashion spin.’ So… yeah. I’d say it was a solid girls day.”

She looked up then — accidentally catching Kai’s eyes over Wren’s shoulder.

And something in the room shifted, quiet and undeniable.

Because he was still watching her.
Really watching her.
Like the lavender clip and glitter smudge mattered as much as the kid in his arms.

Lennon blinked once, slow, and smiled before she could stop herself.

“Anyway,” she said gently, stepping closer to lightly run her hand down Wren’s arm, “your girl is officially the most stylish person in Malibu.”

Wren gasped and immediately straightened up like she’d just been knighted.

“And,” Lennon added, tapping her nose, “my co-captain of fashion.”

Wren giggled — loud and delighted — and tucked her head into Kai’s neck, the kind of trust that made Lennon’s heart squeeze.

Then Lennon picked up one of the lighter bags and raised a brow playfully.

“Come on, superstar,” she said to Wren with a grin. “Let’s show Daddy all your treasures. He should probably sit down for this part. You know… emotional impact.”

Wren squealed, wriggling excitedly. Lennon laughed again, warm and bright.

Yeah.

Yeah, this felt like home in all the ways she didn’t see coming.

Kai wished he could freeze this exact second.

Not the dramatic ones, not the stage ones, not the moments people yelled about online.
This.
His kid buzzing with cosmic-level joy.
Lennon trying (and failing) to pretend she wasn’t melting.
The living room looking like two planets just collided and landed in a pile of glittery shopping bags.

Hell, he’d take this over a sold-out arena any day.

Wren still clung to him, donut purse smacking lightly against his ribs with every excited wiggle, and he just held her closer, one arm wrapped under her legs, the other bracing her back like it was muscle memory.

“Girls day, huh?” he murmured into her hair, already grinning. “Must’ve been next-level.”

She nodded into his neck so enthusiastically he almost lost his balance.
Yeah. Next-level.

He peeked over her shoulder—Lennon with glitter on her cheek, her shirt a little wrinkled from carrying bags, sunglasses crooked, smiling in that soft way she tried to hide when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And something inside him settled.
Like… yeah.
This was the good stuff.
The stuff he never quite believed he’d get to have.

Some days he still felt like a teenager faking his way into adulthood, hoping nobody noticed he was guessing his way through fatherhood and love and everything in between.
But moments like this—Lennon laughing with her whole face, Wren shimmering like she’d swallowed a disco ball—made him feel like maybe he actually had learned something.
Like maybe he wasn’t winging it.
Maybe he was… doing okay.

Lennon lifted one of the shopping bags with a grin that said brace yourself. “He should probably sit down for this part. Emotional impact,” she’d said.

Wren lifted her head from his shoulder and gasped dramatically at the reminder.
“DADDY. WE BOUGHT SO MANY THINGS.”

Kai laughed, a low warm thing in his chest. “Oh, I figured.”

He stepped away from the couch and gently set Wren back on her feet. She immediately grabbed two bags twice her size and dragged them like they were sacred artifacts.

Kai crouched—just for a moment—to be eye-level with her as she tugged at a stubborn handle.
“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a purple hair clip back into place before she could lose it again. “I’m proud of you, superstar. You had a big day.”

Wren nodded, bouncing with importance. “A HUGE day.”

He tapped her nose. “I can tell.”

She giggled and ran to Lennon, nearly tripping over her tulle in the process. Lennon steadied her with an easy hand, slipping right into that space beside her like she’d been doing it forever.

God.

Some part of Kai’s chest tightened—soft, warm, dangerous.
Because they were adorable.
And unstoppable.
And his.
Both of them.
In ways that mattered deep.

Lennon spread the bags out like she was unveiling a limited-edition, world-saving treasure haul. The floor became a clutter of sequins, stickers, duck plushies, and tiny glitter nail files.

Kai leaned a shoulder against the couch, crossed his arms, and watched.
Watched Wren beam.
Watched Lennon guide her through her “presentation” with the same patience and spark she used in the studio.
Watched them fall into step without ever having to try.

He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
The feeling said it for him.

Yeah.
This felt right.
Real.
Easy.
Like home.

And as Wren pulled out a neon frog hat that somehow existed and proudly announced, “THIS IS FOR FRIDAYS,” Kai let out a soft laugh, eyes drifting back to Lennon.

“Well,” he murmured, warmth blooming through him, “sounds like I really did miss an iconic girls day.”

Wren nodded so fast her unicorn almost slipped off.
Lennon shook her head, smiling, cheeks warm.

And Kai—shoulder against the couch, heart stupidly full—thought, not for the first time:
Yeah.
He could do this.
He could do all of this.

Lennon couldn’t stop smiling — not even with both hands full of shopping bags and glitter still stuck to the side of her cheek. The living room looked like a rainbow tornado had detonated, but Wren was vibrating with joy and Kai was watching them like they’d just walked in carrying the moon.

Lennon set one of the bags down, caught her breath, and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. “Okay,” she announced, trying for serious and failing miserably, “before the fashion presentation begins, I need everyone here to emotionally prepare themselves.”

Wren gasped immediately, clutching her donut purse. “Daddy, she means it. This is SERIOUS.”

Lennon nodded solemnly. “Very serious. We had a mission today.”

Wren threw both hands up. “WE DID FASHION.”

Lennon laughed, ruffling Wren’s sparkly headband. “We did so much fashion.”

Wren spun in a slow, dramatic circle, tulle skirt swishing. “Lenny said I’m a style legend.”

“I did,” Lennon confirmed with a nod. “I stand by that statement. History will remember you.”

Wren beamed. “I got sunglasses! And the frog hat! And the tiny glitter lip gloss that tastes like watermelon but you can’t eat it, even though I wanted to.”

Lennon shot Kai a helpless little shrug. “It was a whole conversation.”

Wren gasped again, remembering something crucial, and rummaged through one of the bags until she triumphantly produced something sparkly and chaotic.

“LOOK, Daddy!” she squealed. “These are matching clips for ME and LENNY.”

Lennon leaned in conspiratorially. “She made sure we matched in every mirror within a three-mile radius.”

Wren bounced on her toes. “Because we’re a GIRLS TEAM.”

“Obviously,” Lennon said, bumping her shoulder gently.

Wren swung the frog hat in the air like a victory flag. “And THIS is for Fridays. Because Fridays need frogs. Everybody knows that.”

Lennon bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “You tell him, babe. He needs to stay informed.”

Wren leaned closer to Kai, whispering loudly, “Lenny also said you’re gonna freak out in a good way.”

Lennon groaned dramatically. “Traitor.”

Wren giggled, not remotely sorry.

Lennon turned back to Kai then, softer now, her expression warming in a way she didn’t bother hiding. She nudged one of the bags with her foot. “We might’ve, um… gone a little overboard. But she was so happy, Kai. She owned every store we walked into.”

Wren nodded proudly. “I told Lenny we should buy sparkles because sparkles are IMPORTANT.”

“And who am I to argue with that logic?” Lennon said, shrugging with an innocent smile.

Wren planted her hands on her hips. “Daddy, we’re fashion geniuses.”

Lennon laughed softly, eyes drifting back to Kai — a little teasing, a little shy, a whole lot fond.

“She’s right, you know,” she said. “We’re unstoppable.”

Wren grabbed Lennon’s hand and tugged her closer. “Can we show him the shoes? The sparkly ones? The ones that Lenny said are ‘dangerously powerful’?”

Lennon nodded with theatrical seriousness. “Yes. It’s time.”

Wren clapped with both hands, glitter flying. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER.”

Lennon looked at Kai one more time — warm, bright, a touch breathless — and smiled.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It really has been.”

Kai had absolutely no business standing there grinning like an idiot, but there he was — arms crossed, leaning against the back of the couch, watching the two of them like they were performing a Broadway show written exclusively for his soul.

Wren was vibrating.
Lennon was glowing.
And the living room looked like Claire’s Boutique had detonated.

He could’ve cried from happiness, but instead he went with the much safer option: sarcasm.

Wren whipped out the frog hat at full velocity, nearly smacking him in the face as she declared it sacred Friday attire.

Kai nodded gravely. “Obviously. How have I survived thirty years without Friday frog culture? Truly, I walk among legends.”

Wren puffed her chest like she’d just been promoted.

Lennon tried and failed to hide her laugh, glancing at him in that soft, warm way that made his knees do something suspiciously wobbly.

Wren dove into another bag and pulled out something that sparkled aggressively enough to blind a small crowd. She held it straight up to Kai’s face.

“DADDY LOOK. CLIPS. FOR ME. AND LENNY.”

Kai did a dramatic gasp. “Hold on. Hold on. Lenny got MATCHING ACCESSORIES?”

Wren nodded so fast the purple streak clipped into her hair trembled like a betrayed chihuahua.

Kai turned to Lennon, eyebrows raised. “Matching clips? Wow. That’s commitment. That’s, like… girlband level commitment.”

Lennon shot him a look that said don’t be cute, except she was already smiling like she didn’t mean it at all.

Kai crouched down next to Wren’s bag-dug mountain of merchandise. “Alright, superstar. Show me what else you two unleashed on the economy today.”

Wren, accepting her role as head of the fashion department, cleared her throat dramatically and lifted a shoebox above her head as if presenting Simba on Pride Rock.

“THESE,” she declared, “ARE DANGEROUSLY POWERFUL.”

Kai held up both hands. “Should I be wearing safety goggles?”

Wren gasped. “YES.”

She flung the lid off the box, and inside sat shoes so sparkly they looked like they were auditioning to be their own constellation.

Kai’s whole face went soft at the edges. “Oh man. Kid… those are sick.”

Wren squealed and launched into a high-speed explanation of how she chose them — something involving a dance test, a mirror twirl, and “Lenny saying I looked like a superhero.”

Lennon snorted under her breath. Wren beamed.

Kai couldn’t decide which one was cuter, so he let himself get hit by both.

“Alright,” he said, standing up and stretching his back with a small groan. “We need a full fashion haul debrief. Shoes, clips, sunglasses, lipstick that is NOT food…” He gave Wren a teasing look. “And any and all frog-related declarations.”

Wren hopped once — literally hopped — because she’d already committed to the frog bit.

Kai reached out and smoothed her tulle again, fingers gentle. “You look amazing, baby. I’m serious.”

She lit up like a lantern.

“And Lenny?” Kai said, glancing at her with that warm, unguarded softness he didn’t even bother trying to hide. “You made her whole week. I can tell.”

Lennon looked down at her hands, smile widening, but said nothing.

Wren began her next dramatic presentation, and Kai crossed his arms, completely content.

Let spreadsheets wait. Let adulthood be confusing later.

Right now?
His kid was happy.
His girl was laughing.
And his living room was a fashion battlefield.

Yeah.
If this was winging it, he hoped he never stopped.