EPILOGUE
“Harder!” Gabe demands as I pound into him from behind, where he’s braced against the shower wall. I piston my hips, clutching his waist as he lets out a deep groan.
“Shh, baby. You gotta be quiet, you’ll wake the kids.” I lick the back of his neck, tasting water and Gabe.
He pushes his forehead against the shower wall, nodding. I bring my hand up over his, feeling the little clink of our wedding bands. Nine years now. We wasted no time and got married the year after I proposed. I smile into the back of his neck, remembering the day.
“Noah,” he whines. Fuck, those noises still kill me after all this time.
I grit my teeth as he fucks back onto me, taking control of the movement. “You wanna fuck me after?” I ask him as my head drops, watching my cock disappear in and out of his ass. My heart hammers at the sight.
“Too close, next time,” he breathes. “So good, Blue. I love the feel of you inside me, can’t wait for you to fill me up.”
My eyes practically roll back as I choke on a moan, trying to stay quiet. My dirty talk has rubbed off on him over the years, and I fucking love it. I also love that I can guarantee his face is bright pink, saying those words.
I take my hand off his hip and bring it to his front, reaching for his cock, but he bats my hand away. “No, I’m nearly there, give it to me harder, and I’ll come.”
I grip his hip again, wanting to sob at the thought of him coming untouched. It doesn’t happen every time, but when it does, it drives me wild.
“Yeah? You’re gonna do that for me?” I rasp, picking up my pace, driving into him with deeper thrusts. “That big cock gonna make a mess just from me inside you?”
He nods frantically, water streaming over both of us. “Noah—” My name comes out on a broken whisper, his body shaking.
“Fuck, baby, I wish you could see this, how well your tight ass is taking me,” I murmur before leaning my chest to his back, angling my hips just right.
I know his body better than my own by now.
I know exactly where to hit, exactly how to twist my hips to pull that sound out of him.
“Such a good boy, taking my cock like you were made for it.”
He whines as I bury my face against the side of his neck, teeth scraping lightly over wet skin as I drive into him. My fingers lace with his against the wall, our rings connecting again, another little reminder that he’s mine, that I get this for the rest of my life.
His muscles flutter around me, and I know he’s right on the edge. His thighs tremble, his breath coming in these quiet, strangled little sounds he’s trying so hard to hold back.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Come for me, baby. I wanna feel your ass strangling my cock.”
He shudders, going tight all over, and then he’s gone, falling over the edge with a choked-off cry that he bites into his own forearm. I feel it—every pulse, every clench around me as he paints the tiled wall with his cum.
“Fuck,” I grit out, losing my rhythm as he milks me, as his body drags me under with him. My vision whites out at the edges, and I thrust once, twice more, before I’m following him, burying myself deep as I spill into him, groaning against his shoulder so I don’t wake the whole house.
There’s nothing but pounding water and the sound of us breathing in the aftermath, until I manage to unclench my hand from his and turn him gently. His cheeks are flushed, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes soft and heavy-lidded behind wet lashes.
“Hey,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over his lower lip. “You okay?”
“I’m perfect,” he says, grinning.
I press a kiss to his mouth, then another to his cheek. “Yeah, you are.”
His eyes drop to my chest, and he snorts, shaking his head. “Still can’t believe you got that.”
I look down at the tattoo on my chest, right over my heart. An Oreo with a little G in the middle. I smirk at him, as much an idiot in love now as ever. Theo did it the night before our wedding, and when Gabe saw it, he laughed so hard he cried. “You love it. It’s your favorite tattoo of mine.”
His eyes soften. “Mm, I do. But you know it’s not.”
He brings his hand to the back of my neck, fingers finding the top of my compass tattoo. He brushes his lips against mine sweetly. “This one always will be. It brought you home to me.”
I pull him into an embrace, holding him tight. “No, baby. It was always you calling me home. You’re my North Star.”
He melts into me as his hands stroke up and down my spine. When he makes space between us, it’s to cradle my jaw. He kisses my cheek, the corner of my lips, my chin. My eyes fall closed. A tender caress brushes against each eyelid, and my body goes lax under his attention.
When my heavy eyes open, the sight is every wish I asked for and was granted. Gabe Shaw, looking at me with a love most people only dream of finding.
“Come on,” I say softly. “Let me clean you up before one of them decides to come find us.”
I grab the shower gel and wash him, my hands mapping the body I know and love, softened by time but beautiful as ever.
He turns without being asked, and my hands find his ass, gently kneading his cheeks as he sighs.
I run my knuckles down his crease, enjoying the soft sound he lets out as I clean the evidence of our fucking.
When I’m done, he grabs the shampoo and lathers it in my hair.
His nails gently rake across my scalp, making my eyes fall closed again.
He takes his time, moving to get the shower gel, and washes my body with soft touches.
When he finishes, he lets me guide him out of the shower, both of us dripping onto the bathmat. I grab a towel and wrap it around his shoulders, tugging him into my chest, drying him off slowly. He leans into me like he always does.
“Love you, Blue,” he mumbles into my neck, words muffled and warm.
I close my eyes, kissing the damp waves at his temple where threads of grey have started to appear.
“Love you too, baby,” I say, feeling it all the way down to my bones.
“Let’s get dressed and back to the kitchen before we have to explain why Daddy was ‘helping Papa in the shower’ instead of making breakfast… again.”
He laughs and lets me lead him out of the bathroom.
The pan hisses when the batter hits, the sweet smell wafting up. My lower back twinges when I shift my weight, and I have to bite back a grin. Worth it.
Gabe leans against the island, blue mug cupped in both hands, watching me over the rim.
His hair is still damp, cheeks faintly pink.
He looks good here, in this kitchen that still feels a bit too grown-up for me sometimes.
A real house. Our house. We signed the papers exactly a year before the social worker called and said the magic words: if you’re willing to take two girls…
Obviously we were. The twins were meant to be ours. My eyes cut to the fridge, a mirage of colorful magnets, family photos, and a history of love told in Post-its. So many “I love yous,” cheesy jokes, tiny doodles. Every day, they bring little memories back to me, reminders of everything we are.
“You’re making them too big,” Gabe says, but there’s no real complaint in it.
“They’re Saturday pancakes,” I tell him seriously. “Saturday pancakes are legally required to be extra large.”
He rolls his eyes, but his mouth tugs up. “You spoil them.”
“I was put on this earth to spoil my Shaws,” I say with a wink.
He chuckles, walking into my space and giving my lips a peck. “I have therapy Monday afternoon, you okay to get the girls from school?” he asks.
He still sees Dr. Keane, just once a month now.
He told me sometimes they just sit and chat about their weekend plans or talk about smutty books, which made me smile.
He still suffers with anxiety at times, but he has the tools to deal with it, and I’m always there to support him.
There have been many hard days and nights over the years, so many times we’ve held each other through the night.
But I’m as sure now as I’ve ever been, Gabe is mine.
To have and to hold, through everything.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m actually going to take them to the movies after school with Theo.”
“They’ll love that,” he says genuinely before his voice turns sly, “I can’t wait to spend the evening explaining why they can’t get tattoos yet.
” Amusement lines his tone. He eyes my arms, now covered in tattoos.
His finger trails through the blond hair covering our history.
Willow leaves, book quotes, the girls’ names, song lyrics. Us. Inked into skin.
I open my phone on the counter as the pancake cooks, clicking into my playlists.
“You Make My Dreams (Come True)” begins as Gabe’s shoulders shake.
“Really?” He smiles at me indulgently.
“Really,” I confirm as I pull him into me.
As always, his arms come around my shoulders, and my hands hold his hips as our temples press together.
It’s a lovely moment, sweet and domestic.
And while I wouldn’t say I ruin it by singing, some might disagree.
My tone is off-key, I get half the words wrong, and I step on Gabe’s toes more than a few times.
Not once does he make fun of me or ask me to stop, just smiles as his fingers card through my hair.
The thump-thump of small feet on the stairs catches our attention. Two sets. One chaotic, one careful. I squeeze Gabe’s hip before moving to check the pan. I’ll be in trouble with the girls if I burn breakfast again.
Freya barrels into the kitchen first, curls wild, unicorn pajama top on inside out and backward. Which is impressive, because she certainly didn't go to bed like that. She stops dead when she sees the stove, eyes wide. “Pancakes!” she screeches like a baby Velociraptor.
Right behind her, Elodie pads in silently, clutching her fox stuffie, still blinking awake. She goes straight to Gabe, pressing into his side. Two soft, quiet souls.
“Morning, girls,” I say, flipping a pancake. “You sleep okay?”
“Yes,” Elodie mumbles into Gabe’s top.
Freya beelines for me, wrapping her arms around my legs. “Hi, Daddy.”
I drop my free hand to her hair, ruffling it gently. “Hi, trouble.”
Gabe tips Elodie’s chin up. “Good morning, Elodie,” he says softly.
Her lips twitch. “Good morning, Papa.”
Freya tilts her head back. “Do me too!”
Gabe huffs a laugh. “Good morning, Freya.”
I can’t believe they’re six already. The years have gone so quickly, and the way he looks at them, eyes so soft and full of love, makes me want him more each day. Freya gives a satisfied grin, then scrambles up onto a chair at the island. “Are we having faces?”
“Always.” I wink at her.
“Everyone’s coming over for dinner tonight. I got the ingredients for that new recipe you wanted to try,” Gabe reminds me.
Freya is immediately interested. “Who?” she practically shouts.
“All your uncles and your aunt,” Gabe replies patiently.
“And Rose and Heather?” Elodie asks softly. She’s crazy about her cousins.
I nod. “Yeah, they’ll all be here.”
“Will Kai bring his guitar?” Freya questions excitedly, making me laugh. So many questions.
“Very likely,” I tell her with a chuckle. He brings that thing everywhere, and the girls love when he plays for them.
I place the first pancake onto a plate and bring it over, then start adding banana smiles, blueberry eyes, and hair made of strawberries. Freya bounces in her seat, heels knocking the chair.
Gabe watches me, and I give his ass a little tap as I grab more fruit. He sets the syrup on the table, then moves to my side to grab his tea. Our shoulders brush, and his fingers hook briefly in my waistband, giving a snap that makes heat curl low in my stomach.
“Careful,” I murmur. “Kids are present.”
“You started it,” he says under his breath, eyes flicking to the way I’m standing. “I can tell you’re sore, you know. Too old to keep up?”
I scoff, keeping my voice low. “You can do all the work next time then, I’ll just lie there and take it.”
He snickers, whispering, “You wanna be my pillow princess?”
“Oh, shut up and eat your breakfast, Papa,” I shoot back, laughing. I love when he teases.
“Daddy?” Freya says, already slathering syrup everywhere. Face, hands, the table, I think I even see some on the floor. “We’re all the Shaws, right?”
“Sure are,” I say, sitting opposite them. “Why?”
She licks a smear of syrup off her thumb. “Ms. Collins said yesterday that some kids have different names than their dads. But we all match.” She looks so unbelievably pleased with herself. “We’re a set.”
Elodie nods, very solemn. “We’re a matching set.”
Gabe’s hand finds my knee. My throat goes tight.
“Yep,” I say. “Some people have different names, they're still family though. Having a different name doesn't change that. But I wanted to match my favorite people. That’s why I changed my name when I married Papa.”
Freya beams at that, cheeks sticky. Elodie ducks her head, a soft smile on her face as she lifts her fork. The girls giggle amongst themselves. The sun hits the fridge magnets just right, neon Oreos lighting up.
I lock eyes with Gabe, his soft eyes taking me in. I wink just to see that shy smile and blush rise. With my husband’s hand warm on my knee and our daughters arguing over whose pancake face is funnier, I sit here and think, Noah Shaw is who I was always meant to be.
Well... until Ciarán gets bored.