Epilogue
GRAYSON
The baby does end up with my eyes. Or, to be precise, both of them do.
That's right—my beautiful Jenna gives birth to twins, each one a joyous, adorable handful all on their own.
My son, Landon, has my dark hair and is the calmer of the two—though that's not saying much.
My daughter, Leslie, with her mother's red hair, has a fiery little personality.
Jenna told me she decided to have the babies because she felt they wouldn't change her plans all that much. Apparently, fate saw that as a dare.
We got two rambunctious babies who were either screaming their heads off when they weren't hungry, cold, or in pain—or laughing hysterically as they tried to crawl anywhere their stubby little limbs could take them.
It took months of sleepless nights and sheer panic that they were going to get themselves killed before we got the hang of it.
But as much as we complained during those nightmarish toddler months, I started to miss them once they were gone.
Truthfully, I love our kids to death, and apart from their mother, they were, are, and always will be the brightest thing in my world.
Even during those difficult early years, when I put my career on hold so I could stay home with them, I loved every minute of it. I wouldn't take back a single second. Career be damned—parenting is far more important.
Jenna was surprised when I told her I was willing to take that hit, but it made perfect sense to me.
I have enough money saved that neither we nor our kids ever have to work a day in their lives.
I worked that hard because I enjoyed it, not because I had to, more out of a sense of duty to my father. But all that's behind me now.
Taking care of my children is what matters most, plus I know how much Jenna values growing her own business, so I was more than willing to step back and take on the stay-at-home role. I'm happy simply being her cheerleader.
Jenna cried when I told her, and she was so thankful that I actually got a little offended. It was like she'd never imagined I would do something like that. Did she not realize I'm their father, too?
But I can't really blame her. She probably expected me to be one of those dads who think child-rearing is beneath them. She was grateful to learn I'm not like that at all—and that she wouldn't have to do everything by herself.
Of course, the tears could have just been the pregnancy hormones acting up.
So I spent the next few years as the primary caretaker for our children.
It's definitely not where I saw my life going just a few years ago, but to be honest, I couldn't be happier with how everything has turned out.
I love hanging out with our little tykes. I love watching them grow and learn something new every single day. I love feeding their curiosity and teaching them how to be good humans. I hope I'm doing a good job. Jenna says I am—and that's all that counts.
I also love seeing their excitement every time their mother comes home. I love that Jenna's rested now instead of exhausted, with the energy to dedicate to our family and to the things she loves.
Thankfully, her business has boomed. She's earned enough to hire a full-time COO, which means she finally has someone she trusts to share the load.
My days are spent with the kids at various places—the park, which they adore, the library, or Steph's house. Steph tolerates them because she finds them hilarious, while Amira absolutely loves children.
Mom might get her wish of them adopting after all.
Speaking of my mother…
The relationship with my parents has softened over time. I didn't speak to them while Jenna was pregnant, or for the first two years of our children's lives.
They gave me the space I needed, but they never stopped reaching out—apologizing, asking for another chance.
I wasn't willing to entertain it until Jenna convinced me to give it a shot.
"Your mother got us tickets to Fashion Week," she said one night after we carried the kids off to bed. I'd tired them out with an epic game of hide-and-seek, and thankfully they were now safely asleep. "I think we should go."
"We can go without them," I told her. "I can get us tickets too." I'd practically committed to taking her every year after seeing how much she'd loved her first Paris Fashion Week.
"Yeah, but I want to go with them," Jenna said.
"Look, Grayson, it's been years now. Like it or not, they're your parents.
This fight has dragged on long enough, and it's stupid to let it continue.
I know you're still mad about what your mom said, but she's already apologized a gazillion times.
Being a mom myself, I get it. I get how overprotective she is of you.
Yes, she was rude, but she's trying, okay?
I don't want to keep breaking that poor old woman's heart. "
"Poor old woman?" I raised an eyebrow. "Wait—have you been talking to my mother?"
She blushed. "Maybe a few times over the years, when she calls to check on the babies."
I didn't say anything at first, just kept putting toys away.
She came around and wrapped her arms around me from behind, kissing my back. "Don't you want our kids to be close to their grandparents?"
"They are."
"On both sides," she clarified. "And, your mother promised me a huge diamond that used to belong to a Spanish princess—if I could get you to say yes."
I paused. "How huge?"
"I've seen it. Trust me—it's huge."
I sighed. I couldn't deny that it had been hard, hurting my parents too. "I guess we can give it a shot."
And that's what triggered the slow mending of our relationship—which leads us to now.
I'm sitting with Pops, watching my mom and Jenna side by side in the front row at the Chanel show. They're laughing together, taking turns pointing out which pieces they love and why.
Turns out I was right: Mom and Jenna do get along, now that my mother's guard is down and she's genuinely trying to change her old ways.
"That's a little scary," George mutters, pointing out an elaborate bustle on a model's barely-there outfit. He's sitting beside us in the second row, and I'm glad to see him.
We've grown closer over the years, though he rarely has time to hang out—single-father CEO of a multibillion-dollar company and all that.
Marina's still confined to a hospital, and though he visits often, I can tell he's no longer in love with her. But he loves their son deeply, and he cares about Marina, maintaining a friendship with her.
"So," my father says. "Are you ready to come back yet?"
It's not the first time he's asked, and it won't be the last.
"Not yet," I say. "Maybe when the kids are a little older."
"Don't wait too long."
"I've been working since I was fifteen," I remind him. "I can wait as long as I want."
He nods, conceding.
"Who do you think is more likely to take over after you two?" he asks, and George shrugs. "Peter's like me. He's calm but very smart. He can count to a hundred already."
"That's like Leslie," I say. "Honestly, I get the feeling she's more likely to take over my business. Landon's the artistic type, like his mother. But whoever it is, it'll be their choice. I'm not priming my kids to take over a company if they don't want to."
I'm only doing everything with their best interests in mind—breaking generational curses and all that.
Jenna chooses that moment to glance over her shoulder. I don't know if she heard our conversation, but she smiles at me.
I wink back.
No need to tell her I love her anymore. No need to tell her I'll always be there for her.
She already knows.