Epilogue #2
She pulled back to look at me. “I know. I said I wanted lots of babies, but what if there’s not enough?”
“Enough what?”
Her worried eyes frantically searched my face. “Love. What if another baby comes along and Jack feels unloved or like he doesn’t matter anymore?”
Lifting my hand to the side of her face, I brushed away a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “He’s never going to feel that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was him.”
Rhea jerked back, confused. “What?”
“I’m the oldest of six,” I reminded her. “I never felt like my parents loved me any less because Cooper came along next. And it didn’t change when Tate, Ivy, Liam, or Jules were added to the mix. It was just us. Our family. It’ll be the same for Jack, because we’ll make it so.”
Her body relaxed in an instant. “You think so?”
I nodded. “I know it.”
She deliberated for a beat. “Okay.”
“Okay. So, the dog isn’t a problem?”
Looking back at our son, watching as he stroked his little hand over the back of the pup, Rhea shook her head. “No, Wyatt. We can keep him.”
I kissed her temple and tugged her forward. “Come on. You should meet him, too.”
So, that’s what we did.
And the following winter, we welcomed another boy. With me, Jack, Owen, and our dog, Charlie, Rhea was slowly becoming outnumbered. But she wanted lots of babies, so I suspected we’d eventually add at least one little girl to the mix.
COOPER - ONE YEAR, TWO MONTHS LATER
“Can we do just one more book, Daddy?”
Looking into those big blue eyes, I almost caved. “We’ve already done three, Rosie. And that’s two more than this was supposed to be.”
“But nobody reads bedtime stories like you.” My daughter knew precisely what to say to get me to bow to her whims.
I could admit it. Just a few weeks shy of her fifth birthday, Roselle Westwood had me wrapped around her little finger. It had been that way from about the moment she came into the world. And once she started talking, I didn’t stand a chance.
A gentle cough from across the room had both of us looking up.
My wife had her back resting against the door frame, a big, bright smile on her face. Skye and Rosie were two peas in a pod, especially when it came to their love of reading.
Returning my attention to my daughter, I said, “I know how much you like when I read to you. It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world to do. But do you know who else likes bedtime stories?”
“Mommy.” There was such an edge of disappointment in her tone.
I chuckled. “That’s right. Mommy loves them. And she hasn’t gotten even one story tonight. Do you think you’d be okay with the three I already read to you, so I can make sure she gets one, too?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
Placing my hand on her forehead, I stroked her hair. “We’ll read more tomorrow night. I promise.”
After fixing her blanket over her and giving her a kiss, I stood at the side of her bed. “Goodnight, Rosie.”
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
I grinned at her. “I love you the most.”
The smile was back on her face.
That had become our nightly routine. Rosie and I would attempt to outdo one another when it came to expressing our love. And just like nearly everything else I experienced being her father, it was one of my favorite things.
I stepped away from the bed and crossed the room to where my wife was still waiting. She’d stepped back as I approached and said, “Good night, Rosie. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Mommy. I hope Daddy reads you a good bedtime story.”
Skye laughed as we walked out of the room and closed the door. She draped her arms over my shoulders and pressed her body close. “Have I told you how much I love watching you read to her, Cooper? Do you know what it does to me?”
“You might have mentioned it once or twice.” I gave her a squeeze. “You have that bookstore, and I’m still not sure we’ll ever have enough books for that little girl.”
“We’ll probably be able to keep her busy for a couple of years, though. And don’t worry, because you’ll need to read the same books all over again to Lily.”
The air left my lungs, a peace settling over me. Even if the days were long right now, I did my best to soak up every last moment. It felt like Rosie had been born mere weeks ago, not whole years. Time was flying, and my girls were growing faster than I wanted.
“Did she go down okay?”
Skye kissed my neck. “Like a champ. She was so exhausted.”
My hands drifted down over my wife’s ass. “Mmm. And you? How are you feeling this evening, sweetheart?”
She tipped her head back to look at me, a smile playing at her lips. “Well, I’ve been thinking. And I was kind of hoping for a bedtime story. One that might lead to us making another baby.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were ready for another.”
“It’s been on my mind for a little while now. Rosie’s going to be five, and Lily turned two a few months ago. It’s time. Don’t you think?”
As her fingers drifted up the back of my head, my hands roamed along her sides. “If you feel ready, we can absolutely have another.”
A mischievous grin washed over her expression. “What kind of story do you plan to tell me tonight?”
I glanced over at Rosie’s door, confirming it was still closed. Then I leaned close and whispered, “A naughty one.”
“Oh?”
Taking a step back, I bent at the waist and lifted Skye over my shoulder.
“Cooper!” she hissed in surprise.
I ignored what was a foolish attempt at a protest and carried her to our bedroom. Once there, I went about telling her the very best kind of bedtime story. Skye was such an avid fan of the stories I told that it was no surprise we’d accomplished what we set out to do.
And nine months later, we welcomed our first son, Ashton Westwood, to our growing family.
TATE - ONE YEAR, FOUR MONTHS LATER
Wending through the paper and boxes and toys scattered all over the floor, the little voices filling the air, I made my way out to the kitchen.
Just before I got there, Ava appeared.
I came to a halt, slid my arms around her, and kissed her cheek.
My wife wrapped her arms around me and directed her attention to everything happening behind us. "Are you sure you’re doing alright, Tate?”
Confused, I asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She swept her hand out to the side to indicate where I’d just journeyed from. “This. The chaos all over the floor.”
Ava knew me too well. Or, perhaps, she knew the way I used to be before everything we’d been through after we got married.
Lifting my hand to the side of her face, I said, “Wild one, have I not made it clear over the last few years that I’m okay with the mess?”
She pressed her cheek into my palm. “Well, you say that, and you have been pretty good about not running around picking up after everyone. But this is a bit extreme.”
I glanced back at the floor.
It was covered with evidence of our Christmas morning as a family of five. Wrapping paper was everywhere. Boxes that had held clothing or toys were ripped up and strewn across the floor. The toys weren’t put away in their proper places.
And at what felt like a lifetime ago, the sight of all of it would have caused a strong reaction from me. I hated messes. I loathed things being out of place.
But that wasn’t how things were anymore.
Because I realized how lucky we were to even experience this.
Ava and I had struggled to get here, to make this family.
After more than a year of trying, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant, Ava and I visited her doctor.
We went through a bunch of testing and wound up going through a couple of rounds of IUI.
It had been incredibly trying for Ava, and it nearly broke me to see her so devastated by one failed attempt after another.
With such turmoil in her home as a teenager, she had always been part of our family.
To think that she might not be able to have children of her own, to give them the childhood she didn’t have, was crushing.
But eventually, it happened. And we now had our daughter—Melody—who would turn three next March, and a set of twin boys—Evan and Ryan—who were a year and a half old.
Life was chaotic. And messy. So messy.
Focusing my attention on Ava again, I said, “I love everything about that room right now. That mess is there because we have three beautiful children who had a wonderful Christmas morning. And for someone who loves music as much as you do, I know you love the sounds of their laughter filling this house. I’m okay with the mess, Ava.
In fact, I don’t think I could live without it anymore. ”
Her lips curved into a beautiful smile, and her eyes sparkled. “I know we have a long day ahead of us with the rest of the family, but you’re going to be handsomely rewarded this evening for what you just said.”
I chuckled. “Well, if I’m getting rewarded for saying that, I wonder how giving you another gift this morning is going to make you feel.”
“Another gift? We already exchanged them.”
Shaking my head, my lips twitching, I said, “This one doesn’t need to be opened. It’s actually the reason I was coming to find you.”
“What is it?”
I took Ava by the hand, led her into the family room, and through the mess. A moment later, I had the Christmas music playing on the television as I danced with her around the room, surrounded by our babies.
Ava was beaming at me. “You’re such a good man, Tate. It’s like you’ve never forgotten that this is the one thing I wanted with you since I first had a crush on you at fifteen years old.”
“There isn’t anything that I’ve forgotten about you, wild one. Not a thing.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving me this beautiful life.”
After kissing her mouth, I spun her around the room. Melody finally took notice of the dancing and came in our direction. “Daddy! Dance with me!”