Epilogue
LILY
Seven Months Later
“Breathe, Lily,” Hunter instructs, his voice steady despite the white-knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel. “Just like we practiced.”
I try to focus on his words, on the breathing techniques we spent months perfecting in birthing classes, but another contraction rips through me, stealing my breath and replacing it with a groan that sounds nothing like me.
“Five minutes apart,” James reports from beside me in the backseat, his eyes fixed on his watch. “Lasting about forty-five seconds now.”
“Can’t you drive any faster?” Archer demands from the passenger seat, twisting around to look at me with barely concealed panic. “She’s in pain!”
“I’m driving exactly 9.5 miles over the speed limit,” Hunter replies. “The optimal balance between speed and safety according to traffic statistics.”
“Screw statistics!” Archer yelps as I grab his outstretched hand during another contraction. “Those babies are coming, and they’re coming now!”
“They’re not coming in the car,” Hunter says firmly, though he does press the accelerator a little harder. “We’re almost there.”
My water broke at 3:17 a.m., startling me awake from a dream about floating in a sea of cinnamon rolls. I’d shaken James awake first, as he was closest, and within minutes, all three men were in various states of controlled chaos—Hunter calmly executing our meticulously planned hospital route while simultaneously calling the doctor, James timing contractions with scientific precision, and Archer running around gathering last-minute items while alternating between excited whoops and nervous babbling.
Now, as we speed toward Whispering Grove Memorial Hospital, I’m caught between amusement at their reactions and the increasingly insistent pain in my body.
“Almost there, Lily-love,” James soothes, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. Ever prepared, he somehow produced it from the hospital bag at the first sign of my discomfort. “You’re doing amazingly.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” I pant as the contraction eases. “The main event is still to come.”
“You’ve been growing two humans,” Archer counters, still holding my hand despite what must be numbing pressure. “That’s already the most badass thing any of us has ever done.”
Hunter pulls into the emergency entrance with surgical precision, and before I can blink, a flurry of activity surrounds us. The hospital staff, alerted by Hunter’s call, are waiting with a wheelchair. James has my bag. Archer is reciting my medical information from memory to an impressed-looking nurse. Hunter’s hand never leaves the small of my back.
“Mrs. Thorne-Blackwood-Sterling?” a young nurse asks, looking slightly overwhelmed by the length of my hyphenated last name.
“Just Lily is fine,” I manage through gritted teeth as another contraction begins.
“And you are...” she asks, glancing between my three hovering Alphas.
“The fathers,” they reply in unison, causing the nurse’s eyes to widen momentarily before she composes herself.
“All three of you?”
“All three,” I confirm, unable to suppress a laugh despite the pain. “Hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” she assures me quickly. “Just making sure I understand the situation. We’ll need to prepare a slightly larger delivery room to accommodate everyone.” She wheels me through the automatic doors, my Alphas close by.
“You’re all going to be amazing dads,” I tell them during a brief respite between contractions. “Stop looking so terrified.”
“We’re not worried,” Archer protests unconvincingly. “We’re ready.”
“Speak for yourself,” Hunter mutters. “I’m terrified.”
This admission makes me laugh, which quickly turns into a groan as another contraction hits, stronger than the last.
The next few hours pass in a blur of pain, encouragement, and medical attention. I’m admitted, examined, and settled into a delivery room. My men never leave my side, rotating positions, so one always holds my hand, one keeps cool cloths on my forehead, and one runs interference with the medical staff, ensuring my birth plan is followed to the letter.
It all feels like a blur of pain, trepidation, and excitement.
I notice more than one nurse’s lingering glance at them. But as James predicted months ago, they might as well be invisible. They have eyes only for me and the impending arrival of our children.
“Eight centimeters,” the doctor announces after checking my progress. “Moving along faster than I expected for a first-time mother with twins.”
“She’s always been an overachiever,” Archer quips, earning a weak smile from me before another contraction claims my attention.
The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—wave after wave of pressure and burning that makes me question every life choice that led to this moment. I’d opted for minimal pain intervention, wanting to be fully present for the birth, but now I’m reconsidering the wisdom of that decision.
“You can do this,” James murmurs, his lips close to my ear. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
“We’re right here,” Hunter adds from my other side, his large hand engulfing mine. “Not going anywhere.”
“And just think of the story we’ll tell these kids,” Archer chimes in, massaging my shoulders with surprising skill. “How their beautiful, badass mother brought them into the world while three grown Alpha men nearly fainted at the sight.”
That earns him a strangled laugh that morphs into a cry as the most intense contraction yet seizes me.
“It’s time,” the doctor announces, suddenly all business. “These babies are ready to meet their parents.”
Pain beyond imagining pulses through me, interrupted by moments of clarity so profound, they feel almost spiritual. My focus narrows to the encouragement of my three men, their voices grounding me through the seemingly impossible task of bringing our children into the world.
“I can see the head!” James exclaims, tears flowing freely now. “Oh my God, Lily, you’re doing it!”
“Push when you’re ready,” the doctor instructs calmly. “Nice and steady.”
I bear down with everything I have. Gripping Archer and Hunter’s hands, a primal sound tearing from my throat I barely recognize as my own.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Hunter encourages, his usual stoicism completely abandoned. “You’ve got this, Lily. You’re amazing.”
With one final, monumental effort, our first child slips into the world, a cry filling the room that makes all four of us gasp in unison.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor announces, placing the squirming, red-faced infant briefly on my chest before the nurses whisk him away for initial checks.
“A son,” Archer breathes, looking shell-shocked and ecstatic. “We have a son.”
Before I can fully process this miracle, my body reminds me that we’re only halfway done. The contractions resume, somehow both less and more intense, now that I know what to expect.
“Here we go again,” the doctor says encouragingly. “Baby number two is eager to join the party.”
The second birth happens faster, painful and rushed. With a series of pushes that drain the last of my strength, I’m huffing and screaming out. Our second child enters the world, another cry joining the first.
“A beautiful baby girl,” the doctor announces, and this time, I notice a glimpse of dark hair before she is taken as well.
“One of each,” James says wonderingly. “A son and a daughter.”
“Perfect,” Hunter agrees, his voice suspiciously rough.
Archer seems beyond words for once, his eyes fixed on the two tiny bundles being tended to across the room.
After what seems like an eternity but is probably only minutes, the nurses bring our cleaned and swaddled babies back, placing one in my arms and, after a moment’s hesitation, the other in James’s waiting hands.
“Hello, little ones,” I whisper, staring down at the tiny, perfect face of my son. “Welcome to the world.”
Hunter and Archer crowd close, all four of us forming a tight circle around the newest members of our family. Our daughter yawns in James’s arms, her tiny fist escaping the swaddle to wave in the air.
“She’s going to be a fighter,” Hunter predicts, gently capturing the miniature hand with one finger.
“And he looks like a thinker,” Archer adds, gazing at our son’s serious expression.
“What are we naming these perfect creations?” Archer asks.
We’d spent months debating names, never quite reaching a consensus. Now, looking at their tiny faces, I suddenly know exactly what they should be called.
“Sage and Blake,” I suggest, watching for their reactions. “Herbs, not just spices—essential ingredients that make everything better, just like they will.”
“Sage and Blake,” James repeats, testing the names. “I love it.”
“Just perfect for them,” Archer approves.
“Strong names,” Hunter adds, gently rocking Sage in his massive arms. “Names they can grow into.”
“Sage Eleanor and Blake Malcolm,” I elaborate, adding the middle names we’d agreed on months ago—Eleanor for my mother, Malcolm for Hunter’s grandfather.
As we sit together in the quiet aftermath of birth, our tiny family expanded, I’m overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude so deep, it brings fresh tears to my eyes.
“Thank you,” Hunter says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “For giving us this family.”
“For trusting us with your heart,” James adds, his finger gently stroking Sage’s cheek.
“For crashing your car in that snowstorm,” Archer finishes with a watery smile. “Best accident ever.”
I laugh through my tears, exhausted but happier than I’ve ever been. “Thank you for finding me. For keeping me. For loving me.”
Our twins sleep peacefully. How fiercely they are already loved. I can’t stop smiling.
And as Sage yawns and Blake stretches in Hunter’s careful hold, as my three Alphas exchange looks of wonder and pride, I know these tiny humans are born of love, hope, and just a touch of magic. They are the sweetest, most precious creations we’ve brought into the world.
Our family recipe—unconventional, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.