She stood back to appreciate her handiwork.
A mix of tidiness and lived-in disarray. The books. The pillows. The cozy afghans on the couch.
“She’ll love it,” he said from behind her, and she jumped. She hadn’t heard him enter.
She leaned against his chest. Felt the thrumming of his steady heart.
“How do you know?” she fretted.
“Because it’s not about perfection, but about having enough support so that no matter how you wobble,” his hand rose toward the bookshelves, “you’re bookended by love.”
She kissed his palm.
“Let’s go get our new daughter, then. Bring her home.”
For Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers
Photo: Dale Rogerson (thank you for the homey, inviting photo prompt inspiration! This room makes me wanna curl up with a good book on the couch. xoxo, your NYNF)
Na'ama Yehuda 
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