Epilogue - Camille #2
Ivy stares at them curiously. She's only seen them a handful of times—their reconciliation with me has been slow, cautious, full of awkward pauses and careful conversational paths.
"She's grown so much," my mother says, stepping closer. "May I hold her?"
Izzy hands Ivy over, and I watch as my mother's stiff posture softens slightly, her practiced smile warming into something more genuine as Ivy reaches for her pearl necklace.
"She looks just like you did at this age," my mother tells me, something wistful in her tone. "Same curious expression."
My father clears his throat. "Where should we put this?" he asks, holding up the gift bag.
"The table by the window," I answer, pointing. "Can I get you both something to drink? We have wine, champagne, or there's coffee if you prefer."
"Wine would be lovely," my mother says, still focused on Ivy, who now has a firm grasp on her pearls.
As I pour drinks for my parents, the penthouse begins to fill with guests.
Alex greets my parents with his characteristic calm confidence, either not noticing or not caring about my father's stiff handshake.
Tristan finally arrives with the cake. It took him much longer than he thought it would. It turns out there was a mix-up and it said “Happy Birthday, Irving” before they fixed it. We all get a good laugh out of that.
Julian emerges from the bedroom freshly showered, his natural charm in full force as he circulates among our guests.
More friends arrive—Alex's business associates, Julian's former teammates, several of Tristan's colleagues, and some friends of mine from college. Our apartment fills with laughter and conversation, the initial awkwardness giving way to the warmth of celebration.
The doorbell rings again, and this time it's Kate, Tristan's sister, her arms wrapped around a box nearly as big as she is.
"Sorry I'm late," she says, slightly breathless. "Traffic was a nightmare on the bridge." Her eyes find Tristan across the room, and she gives him a quick wave before turning her attention to me. "The place looks beautiful, Camille."
Kate and I have come a long way from her initial frosty disapproval. After watching Tristan with me, with Ivy, she's gradually warmed up, her protective skepticism softening into something approaching friendship.
Tristan comes up and takes the huge gift from Kate, giving her a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, Kate.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replies and once again I’m in awe by what a one-eighty she’s made. “I mean, how often does your favorite niece turn one?”
“This gift is enormous. What did you get her?” Tristan asks.
She grins. "You mentioned that Julian bought out an entire toy store, so I felt compelled to compete."
We all make our way to the gift table, stopping to introduce Kate to a few guests along the way.
Across the room, I catch sight of Ivy now perched on Alex's hip, his hand protectively cupping her back as he introduces her to one of his business partners.
The older man is clearly charmed, reaching out to let Ivy grasp his finger.
Julian interrupts them, making a silly face that causes Ivy to erupt in giggles.
Tristan appears at my side again with a glass of wine for me. "Everything okay?" he asks quietly, his eyes following mine to where Julian is now pretending to eat Ivy's tiny fingers, making her squeal with delight.
"Perfect," I reply, leaning into him slightly. "Absolutely perfect."
I look around the room—at my three men each playing their role in making this day special, at Ivy surrounded by people who adore her, even at my parents slowly relaxing in a corner talking to some of Tristan’s friends. This room holds everything I love, everyone who matters to me.
"I think it's cake time," Alex announces a bit later, checking his watch with the precision that still makes me smile.
Even at a one-year-old's birthday party, his sense of timing remains impeccable.
The guests begin to gather around the dining table, voices lowering in anticipation as Tristan disappears into the kitchen to retrieve the cake.
Julian scoops Ivy from where she's been playing with a ribbon on the floor, lifting her high above his head once before settling her in her highchair.
"You ready for your cake, princess?" Julian asks her, securing the soft pink strap around her waist. Ivy babbles excitedly in response, her tiny hands smacking against the tray.
The lights dim slightly—Alex's doing, controlling everything from his phone—and a hush falls over our gathered friends and family. Even my mother leans forward with anticipation, her usual reserve momentarily forgotten.
We all begin to sing happy birthday, some of us very much out of key.
Tristan emerges from the kitchen, carrying Ivy's little individual cake with the careful concentration he brings to everything.
It's a small masterpiece—two tiers of vanilla sponge with buttercream frosting, decorated with sugar flowers in shades of pink and gold.
A single candle stands tall in the center, its flame dancing as Tristan moves toward the highchair.
Ivy's eyes widen at the sight of the cake. Her little hands reach toward the sugary flowers.
"Not yet, baby," I say, bending down low next to her. "First we have to make a wish."
She looks up at me, confusion and excitement mingling on her face. She doesn't understand the concept of wishes yet, of course, but something about my tone must register because she sits back slightly, waiting.
"Like this," Julian demonstrates, closing his eyes tight and making an exaggerated wishing face that causes several guests to laugh.
"Make a wish, Ivy girl," Alex encourages, his voice unusually soft. His hand rests lightly on her back, a steady presence.
I close my eyes and make my own silent wish.
Not for wealth or success or any material things.
I wish simply for this—for us to remain a family, bound by love and choice.
For Ivy to grow up surrounded by the unique strengths each of her fathers brings.
For the peace we've found to continue, for the love between us all to deepen with time.
When I open my eyes, I find Alex watching me, something knowing in his expression. As if he can read my wish directly from my face.
"Ready to blow out the candle?" I ask Ivy.
"On three," Julian says. "One... two..."
"Three!" we all say together, and then we're all helping Ivy blow—four adults puffing air toward a single candle while a one-year-old squeals with excitement. The flame flickers and dies, leaving a trail of smoke that curls toward the ceiling.
Applause erupts around us. Ivy claps too, imitating the adults, her face alight with joy. Alex's hand finds mine behind Ivy's highchair, squeezing gently. On her other side, Tristan leans in to press a kiss to her head while Julian captures the entire scene on his phone.
"Happy birthday, sweet girl," I whisper, emotion tightening my throat.
One year ago, we were exhausted new parents, still figuring out feeding schedules and diaper changes, still navigating the complex dynamics of our relationship while caring for a newborn. We had no roadmap for this life we'd chosen, no examples to follow.
Yet here we are, surrounded by people who've come to accept our unusual family.
Even my parents, who once threatened to disown me over my choice to be with all three men, now stand nearby, my father actually smiling as he watches Ivy plunge both hands into the frosting and then bring them to her mouth with a look of pure bliss.
Frosting immediately covers her cheeks, her chin, even her nose.
"That's my girl," Alex says proudly, as if smashing cake is some kind of achievement to be celebrated. The tenderness in his voice makes me smile.
As Tristan places the larger cake on the table and Alex expertly slices perfect portions for our guests, I catch Kate's eye across the table. She raises her glass to me in a silent toast, her earlier reservations about me seemingly forgotten.
"Best birthday ever," Julian murmurs, appearing at my side with a piece of cake for me. "Too bad she won’t remember any of it."
"We will though," I reply. “And we can tell her about it over and over again."
Tristan is hovering over Ivy with a wet cloth, though he waits to clean her, letting her enjoy the moment first. "Just like her mother," he comments, his blue eyes finding mine. "Dive in headfirst and worry about the mess later."
The party continues around us, but for a moment, it feels like just the five of us in our own private bubble of happiness.
The wish I made lingers in my heart—a hope for the future, for many more birthdays just like this one.
For a lifetime of moments where we're all exactly where we belong: together.
If you loved this book, you're also going to love Twins For The Mountain Daddies, book 1 in the Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies series. Keep reading for a sneak peek.