He smiled.
"I calculate buildings, not feet."
She kissed him.
"Good thing I love you anyway."
For several years, they were happy.
Not because nothing went wrong.
Because they faced problems together.
When Daniel worked too much, Naomi told him.
When Naomi became overwhelmed by the emotional demands of her profession, Daniel listened.
They argued occasionally.
Apologized.
Made adjustments.
And tried not to let ordinary frustration harden into resentment.
Then Amelia was born.
And Daniel discovered that the love he felt for his wife had somehow grown large enough to include another person without becoming smaller.
Amelia Carter arrived on a rainy September morning.
She had a round face, deep brown skin, enormous dark eyes, and a furious little cry that made Daniel laugh through tears.
Naomi lay exhausted against the pillows.
Daniel stood beside her holding their daughter with trembling hands.
"She's so small."
Naomi smiled.
"She's a baby."
He looked at her.
"What if I drop her?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
Naomi laughed.
"Because you're holding her like she's made of glass."
Daniel stared at the tiny face.
Amelia opened one eye.
He smiled.
"Hello, sweetheart."
The baby made a small sound.
Daniel felt something inside him change forever.
He understood that he was responsible for another human being in a way no business contract had ever prepared him to understand.
He promised himself that Amelia would never wonder whether she was loved.
For the next four years, he kept that promise as best he could.
He changed diapers.
Read bedtime stories.
Built crooked wooden shelves for her toys.
Learned to braid hair with considerable difficulty.
And spent countless evenings sitting on the nursery floor while Amelia arranged stuffed animals into elaborate families.
Naomi loved watching them together.
Sometimes she stood in the doorway with a cup of tea and listened as Daniel gave different voices to every stuffed animal.
One evening, Amelia placed a toy dog beside him.
"Daddy, he needs supper."
Daniel looked toward the plastic bowl.
"What does he eat?"
"Spaghetti."
He nodded seriously.
"Very sophisticated dog."
Naomi laughed from the doorway.
Amelia turned.
"Mommy, Daddy's being silly."
Naomi smiled.
"That's one of his best qualities."
Their house was full of those small moments.
Ordinary afternoons.
Messy breakfasts.
Bath-time arguments.
Bedtime kisses.
And promises that seemed easy to keep because everyone believed there would be many more years ahead.