Sunday Kind of Love

Grace is wearing an apron, stirring something in a bowl with a fierce look of concentration, which breaks every now and then into a giggle when Steve pretends to tip various condiments – mustard, mayonnaise, coffee grounds – into the mix. There is flour in both of their hair and his kid looks radiant with happiness. The expression on Steve’s face is the exact same one Danny’s has seen on his own whenever he thinks about his daughter; soft with love and with a fiercely protective glint in his eyes. They look good together, comfortable, like they belong, no awkwardness at all, just open affection, and the feeling that floods through Danny’s whole body is two parts helpless yearning and one part resignation because on one level he’d known this was always where he’d end up. Where they’d end up, if Danny is very, very lucky.