She'd been right, of course. She usually is.
So, we'd bought the space, spent six months renovating and hiring staff, and opened Juniper's Cedar Falls yesterday with a menu that honored the original while incorporating local ingredients and flavors from this area.
And it worked. It fucking worked.
"What are you thinking about?" Maya asks now, sliding her arm around my waist.
"How much has changed," I tell her honestly, shifting June to one arm so I can pull my wife closer. "Three years ago, I was terrified of opening one restaurant. Now we have two."
"Two successful restaurants," she corrects. "Don't sell yourself short."
"Ourselves. Don't sell ourselves short." I press a kiss to her temple. "This is as much yours as mine, Maya. More, maybe. You're the one who pushed me to take risks, to trust other people, to believe we could do this."
She leans into me, and we stand like that for a moment. Our little family of three, overlooking the town where our second dream just became reality.
June starts to squirm, wanting down, and I set her on the balcony floor where she immediately crawls to her stuffed rabbitand begins a very serious conversation with it in her baby language.
"She's going to be talking in full sentences soon," Maya observes. "Probably bossing us around in the kitchen."
"Can't wait." And I mean it.
I already imagine June growing up in restaurant kitchens, learning to cook the way I learned from Grandma June, maybe taking over both locations someday if that's what she wants.
Or maybe she'll want nothing to do with restaurants and become a doctor or an artist or anything else. Either way, she'll know she's loved and supported.
"Do you ever regret it?" I ask Maya suddenly. "Giving up the chance to work in big-city restaurants? You could have gone anywhere after culinary school, worked for famous chefs, made a name for yourself."
Maya turns to look at me, her expression incredulous. "Are you serious right now?"
"I'm just saying—"
"Levi Harper, I have everything I ever wanted." She steps closer, her hands coming up to frame my face. "I'm co-chef at two successful restaurants. I get to cook food I'm proud of, with the man I love, in places that matter to people. We have a beautiful daughter, a home we built together, and a life that's better than anything I could have imagined." She kisses me softly. "I regret nothing. Not one single thing."
"I love you," I tell her. "So fucking much."
"I love you too." She grins. "Even when you ask ridiculous questions."
June chooses that moment to crawl over and pull herself up using my leg, demanding attention with a stream of babble that probably means she's hungry.
"Alright, bug," I say, scooping her up again. "Let's get you some food."
We head back inside, and I watch Maya gathering June's things for lunch. This is my life now: hotel rooms in small towns, restaurants to run, a daughter to feed, a wife who challenges me and loves me and makes every day better.
It's chaotic and exhausting and nothing like I planned.
It's perfect.
My phone buzzes with a text from Owen: *Granddad wants to know how opening night went. Also Ivy says congratulations and stop being strangers.*
I text back: *Opening was great. Tell Granddad we'll visit next week. And tell Ivy we're never strangers, and we’ll plan a nice dinner for you.*
Three dots appear, then: *She says that's fair. Also, she's pregnant.*
I nearly drop my phone.
"Holy shit," I breathe.
"What?" Maya looks over, alarmed.