The babysitter

Sunday Morning

Lucy woke to the unfamiliar sensation of sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows and the sound of... nothing. No small feet pattering down the hallway, no whispered arguments over who got to use the bathroom first, no cartoons playing at a volume that somehow managed to be both too loud and completely ignored by its intended audience.

For a moment, she lay perfectly still, trying to remember why the house was so quiet. Then she felt Tim's arm tighten around her waist, and the events of the previous evening came flooding back—the restaurant, the conversation, the way he'd looked at her like she was the most important thing in his world.

"Good morning," Tim's voice was rough with sleep, but she could hear the smile in it.

"Good morning," Lucy replied, turning in his arms to face him. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty," Tim said, and Lucy's eyes widened.

"Nine-thirty? When's the last time we slept until nine-thirty?"

"I honestly can't remember," Tim admitted. "Maybe our honeymoon?"

Lucy laughed, the sound soft and content. "God, I forgot what it felt like to wake up naturally instead of to the sound of Evan crying or Emma announcing that she needs help finding her favorite socks."

"Speaking of which," Tim said, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, "I should probably check and make sure Angela survived the night."

"She's fine," Lucy said, but she was craning her neck to see his phone screen anyway. "Right?"

Tim scrolled through his messages, then grinned. "She's more than fine. Look at this."

He showed Lucy a photo Angela had sent at 7:30 AM—all four kids sitting around Angela's kitchen table, still in their pajamas, eating pancakes. Emma was explaining something animatedly to Jack, who was listening with the patient expression of an older brother. Evan was covered in syrup but beaming, and Emmy was carefully cutting her pancakes into perfect squares.

The text below read: All alive and accounted for. Emma asked for seconds on pancakes, Evan charmed his way into extra syrup, and nobody cried during toothbrushing. You two better be having the most romantic morning ever.

"She's amazing," Lucy said, studying the photo. "Look how happy they look."

"They do look happy," Tim agreed. "And look how relaxed we both look right now. Maybe we should do this more often."

"What, pawn our children off on our friends?" Lucy asked teasingly.

"Take time for ourselves," Tim corrected. "Remember that we're a couple, not just a parenting unit."

Lucy stretched, enjoying the luxury of being able to move without checking to see if she was about to step on a Lego or trip over a discarded toy. "I forgot how quiet the house could be."

"I forgot how nice it is to wake up next to you without immediately having to jump into action," Tim said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No lunches to pack, no permission slips to sign, no referee duties required."

"Just us," Lucy said softly.

"Just us," Tim agreed. "How are you feeling? Morning sickness?"

Lucy did a quick internal inventory. "Actually, not terrible. Maybe the baby's finally cutting me some slack."

"Or maybe you're just relaxed for the first time in weeks," Tim suggested.

"Could be that too," Lucy said. "Last night was... it was exactly what I needed."

"What we needed," Tim corrected. "I needed it too. I needed to remember what it felt like to be your husband instead of just your co-parent."

"You're always my husband," Lucy said, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "But I know what you mean. Sometimes we get so caught up in managing everything that we forget to just... be together."