by Jaymin Eve
"Brooke!" I shouted, racing up the stairs in long strides, taking them three steps at a time. "You’d better not be doing what I think you're doing!"
I burst into the nursery and pulled up short when I found the room totally empty. It did, however, have a fresh coat of pale blue paint covering the previously lilac walls.
"Brooklyn Lawson! You're in huge trouble!" I boomed, stalking through the nursery and tossing open the door to the master suite.
Our bedroom. Brooke's and mine. She'd only moved in a month ago, but the whole house already felt more like home. Like she was the missing piece in my puzzle, and now I was complete. Or, almost. There was one tiny piece that needed to fall into place, but she—or he—was due any day now.
"Brooke! Baby, where are you?" I called out upon finding our bedroom empty. Now I was getting worried. She was full term with our baby, and I'd meant to be home hours ago. What if something had happened? Those paint fumes were too dangerous; she might have—
"I'm in here!" her familiar voice called back from our bathroom.
The relief that hit me was enough to make my knees weak, and I needed a couple of calming breaths before I pushed open the bathroom door.
She was like a goddamn angel, submerged up to her chin in our huge bathtub with bubbles overflowing onto the tile floor. Her white-blonde hair was piled up on top of her head, and her cheeks were flushed with warmth from the water.
Every time I looked at her, she took my breath away.
"You repainted the nursery," I accused, parking my hands on my hips and forcing a frown to my face. I wasn't even mad anymore. I just wanted to strip off and join her in the tub.
She grinned at me, smug as a happy cat. "I told you, I'm positive we're having a boy. It needed to be changed."
I glared. "You were positive we were having a girl last week. Besides, I told you I'd paint it myself once we knew for sure." We'd decided not to find out the sex, and it'd been all kinds of fun taking guesses.
She shrugged. "I didn't do it myself. Jasper and Evan did it in exchange for a crisp high five."
I rolled my eyes. "Fucking bastards. You know I'm only late home because they never showed up for their scheduled meetings at Delta?"
She just grinned wider. Yep, she knew.
With a heavy sigh, I dropped to my knees beside the tub, uncaring of the overflowing bubble-water. I scooped my hand around the back of Brooke's neck and brought her lips to mine for a lingering kiss.
"I missed you today, little birdie," I told her in a low voice. "I couldn't stop thinking about you and our tiny human. How are you feeling?"
She wrinkled her adorable nose. "Still cramping," she admitted. "That's why I'm in here. The girls got me set up before they left." She nodded to the flat screen on the wall at the foot of the bath. She was watching some chick flick and had probably paused it when she heard me calling for her.
"Cramping is good," I told her for probably the thousandth time in the last twenty-four hours. "It means things are happening, right?"
Brooke just huffed an annoyed sigh. "I guess. I just wish it would happen faster. Damn kid is too comfy in there." She scowled at her belly, still under the water and covered by bubbles. "Oh, Mary is downstairs, by the way. Riley didn't just leave me alone while I was possibly going into labor."
I snorted a short laugh. "I didn't doubt it for a second. Are you ready to get out? I'll get some dinner brought up."
She let out a low groan. "Any chance you could order in for me? I badly need a burrito right now. A spicy one."
I smiled, standing up to help her to her feet. Water sleuced off her naked body, the swell of her belly glistening under the soft bathroom lights. Goddamn, she was beautiful.
"A spicy burrito?" I repeated, distracting myself from ogling every inch of her. "Anything for you, beautiful."
She kept my hand for balance as she stepped carefully out of the tub, then let me wrap her up in a huge, gold-flecked towel. "And a lime milkshake," she added, licking her lips. "Holy fuck, I need a lime milkshake."
This time I needed to kiss her to stop from laughing. But damn, her cravings were getting specific.
"Not funny," she grumbled when our kiss ended. She toweled off, then did an adorable waddle over to where her robe was hanging on the back of the door. "I really need a lime milkshake."
"I'll make it happen," I assured her, pulling out my phone and searching for the food delivery app. One of her favorite restaurants had recently been purchased by my personal company and would make anything she wanted on demand. Not that she knew, but I wanted her to have everything she could possibly need.
"Ugh, Dylan..." Brooke groaned as I typed her order into my app.
"Dessert too?" I guessed with a laugh.
She groaned again, and there was a sound of water splashing onto the tile floor. At first I thought the tub had somehow overflowed again, but then I saw the pale, stricken look on Brooke's face.
"Pretty sure my water just broke," she told me, totally unnecessarily.
"Oh shit." I breathed. Then a second later, burst into action. I tossed a towel on the floor so she wouldn't slip, then raced into the bedroom to grab her hospital bag and pull out some comfortable clothes for her to put on. All the while, I was speed-dialing the birthing unit at our hospital and letting them know we were on our way.
"Dylan!" Brooke shouted as I started racing out the bedroom door with her bag under my arm.
I turned back to her in a panic, my heart in my throat. My baby is about to be born!
"What? What's wrong? Is the baby okay? What's going on, Brooke?" I'd officially lost all my chill.
She shook her head, slowly pulling on one of my zip-up hoodies. "I'm fine, Dylan. Baby is fine. But we won't be unless you get that burrito and lime milkshake delivered to the damn hospital."
I blinked at her a couple of times, then burst out laughing. Then I realized she was dead serious and pulled my phone back out.
Whatever my girl wanted, she got. Now and forever.
Epilogue Part Two
Brooklyn… Five more months later…
The house was virtually exploding with Christmas. “It looks like Santa had a massive fucking rager in here,” Jasper said loudly as he all but tumbled through the front door. Evan followed close behind, wearing the ugliest fucking Christmas sweater I’d ever seen, with red fuzz and a huge green bow right across his broad chest. Ugly sweaters were our theme this year, and he’d taken the challenge literally.
“Nice sweater, Ev,” I said, chuckling as he hugged me tightly.
“Had to have this baby specially made,” he said proudly. “I better win the fucking top prize.”
“Where are your ladies?” I asked them both, and they looked like sad, half-drowned cats now.
“With their families,” Evan said with a sigh. “But they’ll fly in tomorrow to spend the afternoon with us.”
They both had lovely girlfriends who were busy and important people. At least they’d be here tomorrow.
“Gotta keep my sweater on for her,” Evan said proudly, puffing his chest out.
I laughed again, pulling the door open further to allow the others entrance. Dylan had been the one to insist that we host Christmas this year for our little Willow. On our baby bird’s first Christmas, we wanted all of our family here.
Watching Dylan with our daughter would’ve made me fall madly, deeply, and completely in love with the man, if I hadn’t already loved him with every fiber of my being. He was the sort of father I had only dreamed of existing, loving on both of us until I almost couldn’t remember the sad, pathetic life I’d lived not even two years ago.
Thank fuck.
“Brooke!” Riley exclaimed, bursting through the entrance and throwing her arms around me. “Missed you, sister-in-law. Now where the fuc—frack is my little niece.” She glared at me, like I was deliberately keeping “her Willow” away—which was almost as amusing as her attempts to clean her language up when she was around the baby.
Beck distracted her by walking into the room, his face set in resigned lines and a very fluffy red-gold-and-green sweater stretched across his biceps as he tried to balance about seven armfuls of presents. “You could have made two trips from the car,” Riley said, exasperated. “Or let me help.”
Beck glared daggers at her. “Over my dead fucking body, Riley Beckett. You will be carrying nothing for the next eight months, so help me god. I will shoot anyone who makes you lift a finger.”
She smiled at him like he wasn’t a complete psychopath, and honestly, I got it. Dylan was the same, and while it might be a touch over the top, for them, it was how they loved. And I’d never felt so much love.
Riley shook her head, muttering something about driving her insane for the next eight months as she linked her arm through mine and dragged me off into the main living area, where we had the majority of tonight's event set up. It was Christmas Eve, and we were starting a new tradition that was going to carry on into our kids’ lives—kids that Riley and Beck were adding to the group in just eight or so short months.
Another baby for them to obsessively love on, and I couldn’t wait.
Dylan was the first thing I saw when we entered the room. He stood before the massive Christmas tree, holding our baby in his arms and talking softly to her as he swayed in time to the flashing lights and carols. A fire burned bright in the fireplace to the side of him, and it was such a picture perfect scene I almost wanted to pinch myself to assure I was awake and hadn’t fallen into a happiness coma for the last year.
If I had, I sure as fuck—or frack, as Riley was adopting—wouldn’t want to wake up.
Dylan’s eyes were warm when they met mine, and there was a promise of lots of loving in my future. Willow was basically sleeping through the night now, and even though we both fought the urge to wake her up and stare into those perfect green eyes—just like her daddy’s—we were quite happy keeping ourselves busy during the nighttime.
But first, we were going to do this Christmas thing.
“Dylan!” Riley exclaimed, and the pair hugged like it had been much longer than three days since she’d barged in to steal our kid. The only one worse than Riley was Evan, who, for some reason, was baby obsessed.
When they pulled apart, somehow Willow was in Riley’s arms. “How’s my most perfect, favorite niece?” she cooed, and the little one patted her favorite aunt on the cheek.
Our daughter was the perfect mix of Dylan and me, with her blond curls and brown skin teamed with big green eyes and the perfect button nose. Dylan and Beck were already working out defense systems against any of the poor, unsuspecting males who entered her life.
That scene from the movie Bad Boys, when they interrogated that poor, lanky dude, would seem like a greeting from the fucking queen in comparison to what these morons were planning. I might have to pull out Mary’s old super suit to sneak my daughter out so she could have some semblance of a social life.
Something to worry about later.
For now, I was feeling pretty damn blessed that she had so much love and protection in her life.
The rest of us hadn't grown up that way, but we would ensure the next generation was gifted the peace we’d all deserved.
“Hey, baby,” Dylan whispered, wrapping his arm around me. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then my neck, and as he drew me right up tight into his arms, I let out a sigh.
“I like Christmas,” I murmured.
He laughed. “I like you. And our baby. Let’s make another.”
It was my turn to laugh. “How about we give my vagina a few more months to recover before you insist on me pushing out another rug rat.” As much as I loved and adored my daughter, I was perfectly content with one, for the time being.
Dylan pouted, those full lips of his drawing me in, and I all but climbed his body to kiss him like it was the only thing keeping me alive. The rest of the room was distracted by our daughter and Mary’s cookies, and pretty soon her dinner would be ready. She didn’t work for us, of course, but the lady was stubborn in her insistence that she would cook for the holidays. And none of us would argue about eating her food.
Mary’s food was better than any Michelin-star restaurant’s, and thanks to Dylan, I’d eaten at more than my fair share now.
I pressed my head against his hard, ugly-Christmas-sweater-covered chest, and he wrapped me up tight and rocked me against him. It was this stupid fucking thing parents did, the constant rocking, but I got it. It was soothing and amazing, and right now, wrapped up in this perfect house with my perfect guy and all the family, I started thanking every god in the world that my life had turned out this way.
It was nothing like I’d expected. Nothing at all.
It was a million times better.
Also by the authors
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