Sophie surges forward, pedaling strong. Three feet, four feet, six, eight. Then, at the last second she glances down, seems to realize that Brian is no longer beside her, that she really is on her own. In the next instant, the handlebars twist and down she goes. A startled cry, an impressive crash.

Brian is already there, on his knees beside her before I can take three steps. He untangles Sophie from her bike, gets her to standing, inspects each limb.

Sophie’s not crying. Instead, she turns to me, as I hustle down the bike path toward her.

“Did you see me?” my wild child squeals. “Mommy, did you see me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I hasten to assure her, finally arriving at the scene and inspecting my child for damage. She’s safe; I’ve lost twenty years off my life.

“Again!” my child demands.

Brian laughs as he straightens out her bike and helps her climb aboard. “You’re crazy,” he tells her, shaking his head.

Sophie simply beams.

By the end of the afternoon, she’s sailing around the park, training wheels nothing but a distant memory. Brian and I can no longer stroll behind her; she’s too fast for us. Instead, we climb up on a picnic table, where we can sit and watch her bike exuberant laps.

We’re holding hands again, snuggled shoulder to shoulder against the late afternoon chill. I place my head on his shoulder as Sophie goes racing by.

“Thank you,” I say.

“She’s a nut,” he answers.

“I don’t think I could’ve done that.”

“Hell, my heart’s still hammering in my chest.”

That surprises me enough to straighten and look at him. “She scared you?”

“Are you kidding? That first spill.” He shakes his head. “No one tells you how terrifying it is to be a parent. And we’re just beginning. She’s gonna want a trick bike next, you know. She’ll be leaping down stairs, standing on handlebars. I’m going to need that hair stuff for men, what’s it called, that gets the gray out?”

“Just for Men?”

“Yep. First thing when we get home, I’m ordering a case.”

I laugh. He puts his arm around my shoulders.

“She really is amazing,” he says, and all I can do is nod, because he’s exactly right. She’s Sophie and she’s the best thing that ever happened to either of us.

“I’m sorry about this weekend,” Brian says, one, two minutes later.

I nod against his shoulder, accepting his words without looking at him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he continues. “Guess I got caught up in the moment. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay,” I say and I mean it. At this stage of the marriage, I still accept his apologies. At this stage of the marriage, I still believe in him.