Eric’s eyes snapped open to sunlight pouring through the curtains.

  “Wendy… it’s ten o’clock. We overslept.”

  Wendy rolled over, voice still thick with sleep. “I’m aware. And yet the house is quiet. That’s a miracle worth savoring.”

  She padded out to check the nursery anyway. Thirty seconds later a soft, delighted gasp floated down the hall.

  Eric sat up. “Everything okay?”

  Wendy reappeared in the doorway, trying—and failing—to hide a grin.

  “You’re going to want to see this.”

  He followed her to the living room.

  Thomas was stretched out on the couch, still in yesterday’s dress shirt and slacks, fast asleep. Their one-year-old lay sprawled across his chest like a starfish claiming a rock, one tiny hand fisted in Thomas’s collar, the other clutching a half-chewed stuffed triceratops.

  On the coffee table: one empty baby bottle and one rinsed cereal bowl with a spoon neatly crossed on top.

  Wendy whispered, “He fed both of them and then crashed. I’m framing this moment.”

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  Eric exhaled a quiet laugh. “We definitely would’ve lost that bet.”

  The phone rang from the kitchen.

  Wendy answered, still smiling. “Hello?”

  Shoshana’s bright voice spilled through the receiver. “Hey, Wendy! Quick question—have you guys eaten yet? My mom is making a huge brunch and basically begged me to invite you over. She claims it’s to congratulate Thomas on his award, but between you and me she wants to meet the boy who’s got me smiling at my phone like an idiot.”

  Wendy glanced at the couch tableau and mouthed to Eric: Interrogation brunch.

  Eric’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard across the room. He gave a thumbs-up.

  “We’re starving,” Wendy told Shoshana. “Give us thirty minutes to pry the human blanket off our guest of honor and we’ll be there.”

  She hung up and looked at Eric. “Operation Wake the Sleeping Heroes commences now. You take the big one, I’ll take the little one.”

  Eric crouched beside the couch and gently tapped Thomas’s shoulder.

  “Hey, hero. Time to rise and shine. You’ve got a brunch date with an excited Jewish mother who wants to feed you and possibly measure you for wedding clothes.”

  Thomas blinked awake, confused, then registered the warm weight on his chest. His face did something complicated—half panic, half wonder.

  “I, uh… he woke up crying around five. Didn’t want to wake you guys. Bottle, cereal, couch. Sorry.”

  Wendy leaned down and kissed the top of his head, then scooped her son into her arms. The toddler grumbled, reached back toward Thomas, and promptly fell asleep again on her shoulder.

  “Never apologize for letting us sleep,” she said. “Now go shower. Shoshana’s mom is waiting, and I’ve been told the woman makes blintzes that can resurrect the dead.”

  Thomas sat up slowly, rubbing his face. “Blintzes, huh? Guess I’d better not keep her waiting.”

  Eric clapped him on the back. “Welcome to the next phase, kid. Food, family, and gentle maternal grilling. You’ll do fine.”

  Thomas smiled—small, tired, but real.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think I will.”