One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project.
Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures.
He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued.
“Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us.
Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr.
Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
Source: amomama
