Li’l Bit’s hand flies out and smacks me in the chest. “Lyle,” she shrieks, shaking her head and laughing a true belly laugh. One that lets me know that no matter what, we’ll eventually get back to some kind of normal around here.

I’m getting up to head to the kitchen for a snack when the intercom at our gate buzzes. Sammi and I lock eyes and my pulse starts racing as I answer with the app on my phone.

“It’s a certified delivery,” I tell my wife, a lump forming in my throat as I buzz the mail carrier in.

She gives me a half smile. “This is it.”

“Yep.” I stare at her and the baby for a beat before rushing out in my socks and meeting the delivery guy in the driveway to sign for my package.

It feels like I’m carrying a bomb in my hands as I make my way back inside and sit across from my wife on the coffee table.

“Open it,” she says, her face as white as a sheet.

My hands are shaking so hard. I’ve literally done nothing but anticipate the arrival of these results, and now that they’re here I’m afraid to open them.

“It’s okay,” Sammi says. “Whatever the results…it’s you and me who will be raising our son.”

“This changes nothing,” I agree, looking her in the eye as I rip the envelope open and withdraw the neatly folded paperwork.

“What’s it say?”

I unfold it in her direction then hold it out with a shaking hand so she can do the honors.

Tears well in her eyes, and she cracks the most radiant of smiles, and I know before the words even leave her mouth. “Congratulations, Daddy…that son of a bitch is not the father.”

Relief pours over me; it leaks from my eyes and fills up my chest. “He’s mine,” I say, scanning over the results to see for myself. “He’s really…truly…mine.” Throwing my head back, I beat a hand to my chest. “Thank you, God.”

I move to the couch and pull my wife and son into my arms, holding them close. I pepper kisses all over her tear-soaked face while gently stroking the fluff on my little man’s head.

Judd continues sucking away, blissfully unaware of the hell his mother and I have just endured.

“Check your phone,” Li’l Bit says, smiling down at hers that’s just gone nuts with notifications.

I retrieve it from the coffee table and open to multiple new messages in our group chat with the band members and their wives. And Anika, of course…who’s the one responsible for all the alerts.

Anika: Well?

Anika: Hellooo. We’re dying over here.

Anika: WHAT ARE THE RESULTS?!

“What the hell?” I bust out laughing. “Was she stalking our freaking gate?”