I can't remember the last time I woke up and it was light outside. It must've been months ago, back in August when the summer sun rises at the same time as my daughter. Certainly not the 26th of December, when I have usually been up for two hours before I catch a glimpse of the first rays.

But when I peel open my eyes the day after Christmas, my bedroom is filled with light filtering through the gap between the curtains and my body feels like it has become one with the mattress, heavy and rested and oh so comfortable. The other side of the bed is empty, no Annie, although traces of her remain.

A blonde hair on the pillow, her phone on the bedside table. I drag my eyes to the baby monitor and see an empty crib. Distantly, as though I'm still half asleep, I can hear Annie's voice floating upstairs from the kitchen, the higher pitch she slips into when she talks to Ava. I hear the clatter of a plastic plate on the wooden table and I hear my daughter's laugh and I hear my girlfriend chatting away about god knows what and I don't have to do anything. I don't have to move. I don't have to drag myself from the warm confines of my bed to the icy kitchen, don't have to yawn as I change a diaper and try to keep my eyes open as I make Ava's breakfast hours before I'm ready for my own.

I don't have to do anything.

For the first time in over a year, I close my eyes, and I fall back to sleep.

The second time I wake up, the sun is higher and my room is brighter, dust motes dancing in the rays that flood the room, and there's more noise. Two more voices have joined the fray, all of my children awake before me while I lie here with my pillow in my arms because Annie's in control.

I'm wondering how long it will be before my bladder wakes up when Annie slips into the room, a steaming mug in her hand.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she says, sitting on my side of the bed and setting the mug next to my lamp, pushing aside my glasses and my book to make space. "Chamomile with honey, or there's a pot of coffee downstairs if you'd rather that."

"What time is it?"

She picks up my watch from the bedside table and says, "How do you even read the hands on this thing? They're tiny." Dropping the watch back onto my book, she taps my phone instead to wake the screen. "Just gone ten."

"Ten?" I sit up too fast, blood rushing to my head, and have to drop back onto the pillow. Annie puts a hand on my elbow.

"There's nothing to get up for. Ava's had breakfast and playtime and now she's napping, and Otto and Hannah are going through the gifts they got yesterday."

"I never sleep in until ten." I can't get my head around that, disoriented by how bright it is, how late it is, how loose my body feels.

Annie rolls her eyes at me and says, "I know. Figured you could do with sleeping in, and look! I was right. Clearly you needed it. You have to give yourself a break sometimes, Laurel."

"Easier said than done when there's only me," I say with a laugh.

"Not anymore," Annie says. "You need a rest, and I happen to like doing things for you."

"Don't ever leave," I say.

She grins and kisses my cheek. "Didn't we agree on that last night? I'm not going anywhere."

"No, I mean it." I clutch her arm and sit up more carefully this time. "Don't leave. As in, stay here. With me. With us. Move in," I say, getting the thought out eventually. My hair is all over the place after such a solid night's sleep and my eyes are wild as I implore Annie to answer.

"Are you just saying that because you've had a good night's sleep for the first time in fifteen years?" Annie asks, a coy smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe. But I mean it. I love you, Annie, god, it hurts how much I love you. I already want you here all the time and you want to raise my kids and I can't think of a single reason why you shouldn't move in with me."

Annie taps her pouting bottom lip and after all of two seconds she says, "No, neither can I."

"Is that a yes?"

"You know it's a yes." Her thumb brushes my cheek when she kisses me. "I already took the liberty of inviting my parents over to meet Ava later. I guess I can wait until they're all soft and happy about meeting their granddaughter before I tell them I'm not coming home."

"You want to hit them while they're weak and emotional?" I ask, taking a sip of the perfect tea she's made. Just the right balance of milk and honey, such a soothing drink that it could lull me back to sleep now that my body's realizing what it's been missing out on.

"Hey, I already moved out once and we did the whole emotional palaver then," Annie says. "The last few weeks have been a bonus. I'm a grown woman, Laurel, I think they'll be fine."

She goes to move and I pull her onto the bed, my arms around her waist. She crashes onto me with a laugh.

"Where are you rushing off to?" I ask.

"Very good question."

"You said Ava's napping. It sounds like Otto and Han have found something to occupy themselves. Let's just stay here a while," I say into the hair at the back of her neck. She twists around, maneuvering so she's sitting on my lap, and she presses her forehead against mine.

"You want a cuddle?" she asks. I nod. "I think that can be arranged."

It's thirty minutes before I really have to get up to use the bathroom, thirty minutes of snuggling with Annie in my arms, telling her about everything she missed before she arrived yesterday – a handful of microaggressions from my mom; a near disaster at lunch when the oven turned itself off halfway through roasting a chicken; Hannah's interrogation.

It's ten forty-five when I make it downstairs with a just-woken Ava, to find that the place doesn't fall apart without me here to oversee every little thing. Otto's playing the Xbox game he asked for and Hannah's reading a book I gave her while wearing her new fluffy onesie and a Santa hat. When Annie throws herself onto the sofa next to Hannah, her own book in her hand, Hannah scooches closer and rests her head on Annie's shoulder.

As I watch my kids, I realize I shouldn't have acted so rashly. I probably should've talked to them about it before I blurted it to Annie. I definitely should've consulted them. Or, at least, Otto. I'm pretty sure I know Hannah's position on the matter. Shit, I've done all this back to front. I shift Ava on my hip and wait for Otto to finish his level or his mission or whatever he's doing. When his character dies and he brings up the menu, pulling his headphones off and looping them around his neck, I touch his shoulder.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask quietly, setting Ava down on the sofa next to Annie. Otto looks confused, but he follows me to the kitchen and I when I pull out a chair at the table, he does too.

"Am I in trouble?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed as though he's trying to remember misbehaving.

"No! No, not at all. I just need to talk to you. I have something to share."

His gaze flickers down to my stomach, alarm and confusion in his eyes when he looks back up to me. "Are you–"

"No, not that." I fold my arms on the table and take a second to take in my son, how much he has changed and grown since the first time Annie was around. "I..." God, why is this so difficult?

"Mom. What's going on?"

I take a deep breath and count down from five and tell myself that when I reach zero, I will just blurt it out. "I want Annie to move in with us," I say. "I need to know how you feel about that."

He shrugs. "Fine. Why?"

"You didn't even think about it."

He shrugs again, like it's really no big deal. "I figured it was inevitable," he says. At my raised eyebrows, he elaborates. "You don't date. Like, at all. Like, Dad's had quite a few girlfriends since you guys broke up but you've never even mentioned anyone."

I idly wonder how many quite a few is. I've only heard a handful of names in the last eight years.

"Then Annie's back in town," Otto continues, "and she's over all the time and she starts working at the store and she's picking me and Hannah up from school, and I figured, whoa, Mom must be serious about her."

"I am," I assure him.

He smiles. "I know."

"It's a big step. Annie moving in. If it's too much, we can put it off," I say, even though, now that I've made my mind up, that's the last thing I want to do. I want Annie, all of the time.

"Nah, it's cool," Otto says. "She can teach me to drive, right?"

I try not to act wounded, though the thought of my son getting behind the wheel is enough to make me dizzy. "I can teach you to drive, hon."

"No, I know, but you're always busy with Ava." He says it so casually but the words slice like a knife, a painful reminder that just because Ava is my neediest child doesn't mean she's the only one who needs me. "I'm taking driver's ed next semester. It'd be cool to, you know, have someone to drive with."

"Well, I'm sure Annie and I can share that responsibility," I say. "Hey, before you know it you won't need me to take you to school anymore. You can drive Hannah and yourself."

His grin widens. "Does that mean you're gonna get me a car?"

"All in good time. You haven't even started driver's ed yet, don't get ahead of yourself." I pat his hand as I get up. "So we're all good?"

"With your girlfriend moving in?" he asks, and he nods. "Yeah, we're good." He lets out a quiet chuckle and says, "When I came downstairs and Annie was playing with Ava and she said you were sleeping in this morning, I thought, oh my god, my mom is gonna marry you. So, yeah, this is fine. It's all good."

I open my arms and pull him into a hug and he doesn't resist. A stray curl of his mousy hair tickles my nose when I wrap my arms around his shoulders and breathe in the overpowering scent of his Axe body spray.

"Thank you, Otto," I say into his hair, closing my eyes for a moment as he hugs me back. " I love you."

"Love you too, Mom," he says, squirming to get out of the hug after more than a couple of seconds. "Can I get back to my game now? I was about to start a new round with the boys and Josh's mom said he can only play for an hour."

He heads back to his game and I follow him to the playroom, where Hannah has abandoned her book to join in with Annie's and Ava's games. I'm impressed – as much as Hannah adores her baby sister, it can take a lot to pull her away from a book she's enjoying – and I savor the moment before I say, "Hey, Han?"

"Yeah?" She looks up at me from the floor, where she's lying on her back with one of Ava's toys on her stomach, waiting to be crawled over as part of an obstacle course. I perch on the edge of the sofa, my gaze drifting to Annie.

"How would you feel about Annie coming to live with us?" I ask.

I was right. She's ecstatic. She gasps and squeaks and flies to her feet, flapping her hands, and it takes a moment before she wrangles the words that have gotten jumbled up in her excitement.

"You're moving in, Annie? You're gonna live with us? When?"

"As soon as I have the approval from all three of the Jacobs siblings," Annie says. "Do I have yours?"

"Of course! This is so exciting!"

Otto is unfazed by all the chatter and the pitch of his sister's voice. I think he has learned how to tune us all out when he's playing a game.

"We're just waiting on this one, then." Annie growls as she lunges at Ava and sweeps her up, making her laugh. "Whaddaya say, Avie-poo? Can I move in? Am I good enough for your mama?"

Ava giggles and stamps her feet as she squishes Annie's face in her hands and says, "Hi Mama!"

Annie looks up at me, her blue eyes as bright as Ava's. They really could be mother and daughter, and an initial swoop of jealousy is drowned out by something else. Something like pride. Because they're mine. Everyone in this room is mine.

I get down on the floor and I join the game. Somehow we end up as a pile of bodies when the game gets out of hand, when Annie drapes herself over me and Hannah throws herself on top of Annie and Ava takes great glee in climbing into Hannah's back. I'm at the bottom, crushed beneath the three of them, but I feel like I'm on top of the world.

*

"Mark stayed home with Nathan and Lily," Diana says when she turns up with Cooper. "He didn't want to overwhelm you."

I appreciate the thoughtfulness, although it reminds me of Saturday night and how easily overwhelmed I was, how much of a fool I made of myself in front of Annie's entire family.

"There'll be plenty of time for him to meet his granddaughter," I say, welcoming Ava's grandmother into the house. Although I've spent the last few days coming to terms with these new relationships, I still find myself on the edge of tears when I look at Annie's mom and see the archetypal grandmother. She is warm and round and her hair is going gray; she has a welcoming smile, and I know there's no one way to be a grandmother but I already know she suits the role so much better than my mom does.

I lead Diana to the kitchen first, where I pour three coffees and make small talk about the weather before we head into the playroom, where Hannah's showing Ava how to match wooden shapes to the holes in a box.

"Han, hon, this is Annie's mom," I say, turning to Diana with a smile. "My middle child, Hannah. She and her brother are aware of the situation," I add, and the lines in Diana's forehead smooth out.

"Hi, sweetheart. Annie's told me all about you," she says. Cooper moseys into the room, sniffing around Ava's toys.

"Hi," Hannah says, shrinking slightly at the introduction of a new person into the room. "Are you Ava's other grandma?"

Diana looks to me, like she needs permission to wear that label, and when I nod, her bright beam matches Annie's. "I am," she says, turning back to my daughters. "I'm so excited to meet both of you."

I take a seat on the sofa and Diana follows. Cooper makes his way over to Ava, his tail wagging like he remembers the toddler who likes to clamber all over him, and she giggles when he sniffs her belly. Annie sits in Otto's gaming chair, spinning in slow circles, both of us watching her mom as she watches Ava play.

"She's precious," Diana says, a hint of a wobble in her voice, her eyes damp when she turns to me and says, "You have such a wonderful family, Laurel."

Hannah scoffs and says, "You haven't met Otto yet. He's a stinky teenage boy."

Diana laughs. "I have plenty of experience with those. Don't worry, they tend to grow out of it."

Diana stays for almost two hours, through Ava's lunchtime, until it's time for an afternoon nap and she and Cooper leave with the promise that she's always around. Annie doesn't break the news that she's moving in with me. Her mom's emotions are already pretty high just from meeting Ava – a couple of tears even rolled down her cheeks when she got to cuddle her, and Ava was perfectly happy to be held by a stranger.

"Mom?" Hannah says, trailing after me as I carry a sleepy Ava up to her crib.

"Mmm?"

"Can we get a dog? I want one like Cooper! He's so big and soft and fluffy and cuddly."

"One step at a time, hon," I say. "Annie's enough of a golden retriever for now, isn't she?"

Annie turns around and throws a grin at me as she unlatches the stair gate, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "You know it."

"But he's so cute! I want a dog."

"I spend half my life at work, Han. We don't really have the time or the space for a dog." I don't tell her that I've always wanted one, that I love the idea of a cuddly mutt to keep me warm in bed, but I've always been too busy, no-one at home to walk and entertain a dog while I'm at work. If I tell her that, she'll point out that Annie and I work virtually opposite shifts and I'll lose my arguing ground.

I go to Ava's room. Hannah goes to her own. As I lay Ava down for her nap, Annie leans against the crib and says, "We should totally get a dog."

"Don't let Hannah hear you say that!"

"Wasn't that so precious, though? The way Ava was snuggling him? I wish I'd had a dog growing up."

"Maybe one day," I say, as Ava's heavy eyelids drift shut without the need for a story. I sit in the armchair and watch her for a moment. Annie comes and sits on my lap, her arms around my shoulders and her temple against the top of my head.

"Okay, if a dog is too much, how about another one of those?" She nods at Ava. "Seeing as Nathan's so ready and willing."

I roll my eyes at her, though she can't see. "A baby is a bit more of a commitment than a dog," I say.

"At least you can stick a diaper on a baby," she says. "A baby is very unlikely to poop in your shoe if you don't take it out for a walk in time."

"I knew you were broody," I mutter as I hold her.

"Maybe a tiny bit. Like, when Ava calls me Mama. That makes me feel all swoopy," she says, mimicking a swooping bird with one hand.

"You can be her mama," I say, yawning. "I'll be Mommy."

Annie rolls her cheek against my hair and kisses my forehead. "You think you'd ever have another?"

"I don't know," I say. The thought has lingered at the back of my mind ever since I laughed at Nathan's offer but I can't tell how I feel about it yet. "Part of me feels like I have my family now," I say. "But then again, I never thought I'd have another after Hannah and I can't imagine my life without Ava, so I guess ... never say never? But time isn't on my side. God knows how many good eggs I've got left and it's not something I'd want to rush into."

"It's okay. We don't need to talk about this," Annie says as my heart rate starts to increase as I go down a rabbit hole, worrying that I'll wake up in five years wanting another child and find out I'm menopausal. "We've been back together for less than a month, Laurel, this is not a conversation we need to have. You're right. You've got your family. You've got an amazing family. And you've got me too."

I nod, ruffling my hair under her chin, taking a deep breath to try to calm the stupid, pointless panic that threatens to take over. I hold onto Annie like she's my anchor.

"Plus," she continues a few moments later, "I think you've already used up all the good palindrome names and you can't break the pattern after three kids."

"I didn't mean to name them all palindromically."

"Yeah, but you did, so if you ever have another child, you've got to think about that. What other palindromes even are there?"

"I don't know." Despite sleeping in, I can't stop yawning.

"All I can think of is Anna or Eve," Annie says, "and obviously those are both totally out of the question."

"Obviously."

"And for boys, there's, what, Bob? Can you even imagine a little baby Bob?" She lets out a quiet gasp, not letting me respond, and she says, "Actually, it's already growing on me. Bob could totally make a comeback."

"Bob Jacobs sounds like a middle aged man with a receding hairline." I rest my cheek on her shoulder and close my eyes. "If I ever have another son – and that is a huge if – I'm not calling him Bob."

"Okay, back to the drawing board." Annie sighs heavily, her fingers playing in my hair. "How about Xanax? Cool, feisty, unique."

"You think I'd name a child after a medication I occasionally take to keep semi-sane? I don't think that's even legal, and it sure as hell isn't moral," I say. "Face it, Annie, there are no good palindromes left. My eggs will just have to go out to pasture."

"Fine." Her breath ruffles my hair. "We'll get a couple of fish instead. I bet people call their fish way weirder names than Bob and Xanax."

"I bet most people don't even name their fish."

I don't know why I'm indulging her in this pointless conversation but somehow it puts me at ease, listening as Annie rambles away about the fish she had as a child and the names she can remember, which somehow branches off into a long-winded recollection of her childhood from the age of four to eleven. I don't even realize how long we've been in here until Ava stirs and I check the time and it has been nearly an hour and a half.

Annie slides off my lap and scoops Ava into her arms and I stay put, watching the way my girlfriend interacts with my daughter like she's already the mom I sense she wants to be. When I think about the future, I struggle to imagine another child but one thing is clear as day: Annie is there, front and center.

As she kisses Ava's cheeks and sways with her on her hip, the words parading through my mind on a ticker-tape are I think I'd like to marry you someday. I don't say them. Of course I don't. It's laughably soon to even think something like that. But it doesn't scare me.

She's the one. Annie Abraham is the one. I think I knew it all those years ago, before I knew how to begin to understand the way I felt; those days are fuzzy black and white, like watching an old movie. Now I see the path of my future laid out before me like the yellow brick road in technicolor, Annie ahead of me, holding out her hand and asking me to trust her.

*

turns out all laurel has ever needed is a good night's sleep. i can't believe we're almost at the end! (i also can't believe this was originally supposed to be a 50,000 word single POV novella?!)