2024. 

          TATUM ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A BRIDE. 

Though she never was fond of disney princesses -- or perhaps, being saved by a prince -- in her childhood, dancing in a white gown was something she always dreamed of doing. 

And now, when she looked at the picture framed on the fireplace below the 65" TV in her living room, she could smile because the dream came true. 

"Look, Eves," Tatum points to the well-lit photo of her in a long white gown, dancing with an ear-to-ear grin as the photograph of Art stands in front of her -- suit and all -- and smiling so wide you can just hear his laugh through the picture. "That was me and your dad a few days before we found out we were having you." 

Tatum tickles the small of her daughter's belly as she holsters the three-year-old up onto her hip.  

The blonde baby, in which, giggles as she looks anywhere but the picture. 

The sound of the security lock being undone echoes throughout the tall ceiling the foyer has as the front door soon opens wide and Lily comes into view. 

She has a plastic gold medal draped around her neck as she runs into the house, straight for where Tatum and Evie stand. 

Tatum gasps, an ear-to-ear grin immediately on her face as she sets Evie down onto the ground and embraces Lily. "Did you win that?" 

"First place in the whole tournament!" Lily beams, arms wrapped around Tatum's frame as her step-mother reads the words engraved into the cheap of the medal. Sicero Pizza's Youth Soccer Tournament. "I scored 4 goals! Dad saw!" 

Lily was creeping up to Tatum's height almost -- she was tall like her mother. (But kind like her father). 

"Did he?" Tatum's brows raise with excitement for the girl. "Speaking of, where is he?" 

With the impeccable timing Art Donaldson seems to always have, he comes in the door with two bags filled to the brim with leftover snacks he never got to hand out to Lily's team, and closes the long black door behind him. Two dogs following behind him, jogging into the house with their tongues hanging out of their mouths.  

It takes Evie nothing but 2 seconds to run toward her father, in which, he, set the white plastic bags down and kneeled, grin apparent on his face and arms spread wide, ready to hold his daughter like he hadn't seen her in a week, when in reality, it'd barely been 6 hours. 

Tatum watches the adorable domestic dream she has unfolding before her eyes with the warmest of smiles. Hell, she'd been dreaming of a day like this ever since the day she laid eyes on Art, and now, it was her reality. 

"Why don't you go get cleaned up, hmm?" Tatum asks Lily, twirling the small end of her ponytail. "I'll get dinner started."

Lily takes to pet the two dogs on either side of her before running up the stairs. 

And while Evie parts from Art, and his eyes soon land on hers. His smile softening like he's looking at a familar photograph. Like she's a breath of relief that he oh so desperately needed. 

They meet each other in the middle, Art wasting no time to press a kiss to her cheek as he wraps her up in his arms and just holds her. Eyes closed. Breathing her in like she's a flower he's so unfamiliar with but wants to pick every single petal off of and watch it rebloom every single day. 

"I can't believe how lucky I am." Art says, as if talking to himself. 

Tatum pulls away with a smile, but keeps her arms around his neck. "Oh yeah?"

He takes her hand from around him and kisses the palm of it. "I just got back from watching our kid win four goals at a soccer game and I get to come home to you," he says the three-letter-word like it has a thousand unsaid words behind it. "and the cutest little girl." 

The blonde bites her bottom lip to refrain from smiling, one of two golden retrievers soon rubbing up against the bare of Tatum's leg. She gives Art another glance before giving in completely to the dog's beg for attention. "And we have two dogs." 

Art smiles wider as Tatum goes back to standing tall, recieving a kiss from her husband. "And we have two dogs." 

Lily peeks her head around the corner and lets out a noise of disgust. "Get a room!" 

Tatum's mouth falls agape in a joking way, brows raised with amusement. 

Art, however, ruffles her hair, earning two swatting hands from the twelve-year-old. 

But also, a strain of continuous laughs from Tatum and Evie, as she watches. 

And like every good thing in the world, when Tatum looks out the window, all she can feel is a belly full of bliss and butterflies because she sees a stupid white picket fence with a sunset behind it and though it means nothing at all, it's like the spitting image of the ending of a perfect fairytale. 

Tatum and Art's perfect fairytale.