I really shouldn’t brag, but all three are beautiful—you can tell they’re sisters, they all have the same golden skin, long honey blond hair, and big blue eyes. People are always stopping me, telling me the girls should be models. Maybe they will be. I don’t know. We’re just so busy as it is.

“Mom! Mommy!” Tori wails tragically at the edge of the grass, her big beach towel bunched at her feet, her paper plate upside down in her hands. “I dropped my French fries!”

I sigh. My friends chuckle. They know what it’s like, they know what I’m going through. “Go get some more,” I call to her. “They’ll remember you at the counter.”

“Come with me,” she pleads.

“You can do it. Besides, Brooke’s still over there. Catch her before she leaves. Tell her Mommy said to—” But before I can finish, Tori’s running past me.

“Daddy!” she screams, rushing toward Nathan, who has just appeared at the pool.

Smiling, I watch Nathan swing Tori into his arms. We’ve been married eleven years, twelve on Valentine’s Day, and I still think I married the sexiest, greatest man. It’s not just because he has money, either. We’re happy. We have a great life together. I’m lucky. Blessed. Really and truly.

Nathan’s a wonderful father and an amazing provider. You should see our home—as a little girl, I dreamed of someday living in a house like ours—and our three little girls are gorgeous, and Nathan spoils all of us. Constantly. So much so that I feel a little guilty sometimes.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Nathan says, walking toward us with Tori still in his arms.

Nathan is a vice president for Walt McKee’s personal holding company, McKee being the founder of satellite communications, and that’s the name of the game here in Seattle: technology. Bill Gates, Paul Allen, Steve Balmer, and Walt McKee are all practically neighbors and if not close friends, acquaintances. I’m not trying to name-drop, it’s just that this is my world, the one I live in. I see the Gateses and McKees and the Balmers everywhere. Our kids play together on the same sports teams, dance at the same ballet studios, swim at the same country club pool, and sometimes attend the same school.

Nathan leans down and kisses me before turning to greet my friends. In the late afternoon light, he looks even more golden than usual, his brown hair sun streaked from swimming, surfing, and playing golf, his warm brown eyes almost bronze. I think he’s more handsome now than when I first met him.

“Hello, honey,” I answer, reaching out to capture his fingers. “How was your day?”

“Good.” He shifts Tori to his other arm, oblivious that Tori’s damp little body has left his shirt wet as well as stained with a splatter of ketchup.

Tipping my head back, I smile up at him.