“Why don’t I show you where the bedrooms are? Then you can freshen up and we’ll have something to eat,” I say.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

I hold out my hand for Amelia to take, and Reece follows as we climb the stairs.

“Left is to the kitchen and living room. Right to the bedrooms,” I say.

Reece heads to the kitchen while we turn right, and end up in the hallway leading to our rooms.

Amelia’s first.

I open the door to a newly decorated room. It’s mostly pink—her favourite colour—with a chalkboard feature wall for her to draw on and, my favourite part, the black duvet on the bed with a large silver fern. She’s half of me too, but I always want her to be in touch with her roots.

“Josh,” Delaney gasps.

“This is my room?” Amelia asks.

“It is, sweetheart. I might have had some decorators in a while ago. Just in case.”

Delaney walks in, brushing her fingers over the duvet.

“My bed is so awesome,” Amelia squeals, and I laugh.

“I’m glad you like it. I knew it’d take some time to get your things over here, so I made sure that you had plenty of toys to play with, and I thought it should feel like home.”

Delaney walks back to me, takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Having you here means I can spoil you.”

“Not too much.”

I know what she means. It’d be easy to go overboard, but I have to restrain myself where Amelia’s concerned. Delaney, on the other hand …

“Come and see our room.” I pull her by the hand out the door. “Are you okay, Amelia? We’re just going down the hall to our room.”

I’m not sure if she even hears me. She’s opened her wardrobe and discovered where the toys are stored.

“She’s distracted. Show me,” Delaney says.

I lead Delaney a little farther down the hall and open the door to our room. She squeezes my hand again as we walk in the door.

The room’s plainly decorated. I never put much effort into it when it was just me, and while I had Amelia’s room revamped, I left our room as it was so Delaney could put her stamp on it.

She lets go of my hand, and opens the door to the walk-in wardrobe.

“I love it.” She beams.

“It’s all yours. Apart from that tiny part over there for me.” I laugh.

She crosses the room and opens the French doors that lead to the balcony. It overlooks the back yard, and she takes an audible breath while she looks over the grounds.

I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and nuzzle her neck. “You like?”

“I love. It’s just such a big house.”

“Is that good or bad?”