Grant

My eyes cracked open to soft morning light and the scent of something faintly sweet.

The bed beside me was warm and empty. Aria had just slipped out. I rolled to her side, fingers brushing over the crumpled sheets. Then I heard it, tiny, unfamiliar giggles echoing faintly through the house.

I yawned, stretching until my spine popped, and the fog in my brain finally cleared.

Right. We brought home a four-year-old last night.

With no plan. No parenting manual.

Padding into the ...