I smirk as Keegan comes into the room holding his daughter, Eve.

“Our family has grown odd,” he decides and sways back and forth with the baby. “Isn’t that right, wee one?”

“She’s beautiful,” I inform him and reach over to let the baby grab my finger. “And she has a firm grip.”

“I’m reminded every time she reaches for my hair,” Izzy says as she joins us. “I live my life in a ponytail these days.”

“Tommy, you come here with that!” Anastasia yells as her son toddles into the room, running with a full-sized pickle in his pudgy little grasp. “You can’t eat that whole thing. You’ll make a huge mess.”

We spend an hour, a full hour, laughing at the babies’ antics, and I find myself holding a sleepy Eve, rocking her in the chair in a corner, watching the others.

“Hello, lovely girl. You are a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Her green eyes are huge as she sucks on her pacifier and plays with my chin. “Are you going to let yourself drift off to sleep? You look a little sleepy. Your mama said it’s your naptime.”

I glance up and find Maggie watching me soberly, and when I smile at her, her face softens into a smile.

Jesus, I want this with her. I want babies and a marriage. A home.

“You’re awfully comfortable with a baby in your arms,” Stasia says as she sits next to me and coos at Eve. “It’s pretty damn cute.”

“Damn!” Tommy announces, and Stasia hangs her head in shame. “Why? Why does he only say the bad words?”

“And now we have proof that it’s not my fault,” Kane says with a laugh, scooping up his son and kissing the boy’s round cheek. “You can’t be saying that, lad. It makes your mother a little nuts.”

“Nuts,” Tommy says, pointing at his mom.

“Not helping,” Stasia informs her husband.

“Okay, everyone. Dinner’s ready,” Fiona announces as she walks into the living room, where we’ve all gathered. Her eyes grow misty, and she reaches for Tom’s hand. “And isn’t this a fine bunch? All of our loves together.”

“Ma’s getting sentimental,” Shawn warns and stands to make a beeline for the dining room. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

“Thanks for bringing the cake, Anastasia,” Fiona says to her daughter-in-law as she gets ready to cut the white cake with ornate flowers decorating the top. “It’s just beautiful. Is this the sort of thing you’ll be selling in your new bakery?”

“On a smaller scale,” Stasia confirms. “No more wedding cakes for me because they take too much time. We’re getting close to opening. Just a few weeks left. We’ve decided to call it O’Callaghan’s Bakery.”

Tom’s head comes up in surprise. “You are?”