Ten years. Five kids. And a marriage that looks nothing like I thought it would and everything like what I actually needed. We are good at this. Really good. We are coordinated and communicative and we show up for each other and for our family every single day without thinking twice. Brit is the best partner I have ever seen in action. But romance? Intimacy? The version of us that had nowhere to be, nothing to manage, and all the time in the world to just be in love? That version is harder to find these days. We find it in sprinkles. A real kiss before someone starts crying. A look across the dinner table that says I see you without anyone else noticing. A Saturday morning where we’re both just present, without an agenda. I don’t think we’re losing it. I think we’re in the middle of something — loud and exhausting and beautiful — and on the other side of it is the rest of our lives together. And I want to want her on that side. Not just be there. So we protect the sprinkles. We na...