Epilogue
Three Years Later
Aria
The late afternoon sun painted the beach in shades of gold and amber, and I stood on the deck of our rented beach house with one hand resting on my swollen belly, watching seven children play in the surf below.
The sound of their laughter carried on the salt-tinged breeze, and I couldn't help but smile.
Three years. Three years since that snowy night when everything had fallen into place. Three years since I'd moved into Noah's house and we'd started building this beautiful, chaotic, unconventional life together.
"Caleb, don't let Finn go out too far!" I called down, and my oldest—because that's what he was now, mine as much as Gabriel's—gave me a thumbs up and grabbed Finn's hand, pulling him back toward shore.
They were all mine now. All seven of them. Just like their fathers were all mine, and I was all theirs.
My hand moved in slow circles over my belly, and the baby—our baby, all of ours—kicked in response. Six months along and already so active. The guys joked that with six dads' worth of energy, this kid didn't stand a chance of being calm.
We'd stopped trying to figure out who the biological father was after the first conversation about it. It didn't matter. This baby belonged to all of us, just like everything else in our lives.
"Aria! Aria, look!" Mila was running up from the beach, her long dark hair flying behind her, pink swimsuit dripping. "I found a sand dollar! A whole one!"
I leaned over the railing as she held it up, perfect and white. "That's beautiful, sweetheart. That's good luck, you know."
"Really?" Her eyes went wide.
"Really. Make a wish on it."
She closed her eyes tight, clutching the sand dollar to her chest, and I knew without asking what she was wishing for. The same thing all the kids had been talking about since we'd told them about the baby: a little sister. The boys were outnumbered, and Mila was determined to even the odds.
"Can I keep it in my room when we get home?" she asked.
"Of course. Now go show your dad—I think I saw Liam down by the water."
She took off running, and I watched her go, my heart so full it almost hurt.
The beach house was perfect—six bedrooms, a massive deck, and a private stretch of beach that meant the kids could run wild without us worrying. Noah had found it, of course. He had a gift for creating spaces where our family could just be, without judgement or questions.
Not that we got many questions anymore. After the commitment ceremony we'd held last year—all seven of us standing in Noah's backyard, making promises to each other in front of our kids and a handful of close friends—the community had mostly accepted us.
Or at least, they'd accepted that we weren't going anywhere.
There were still stares sometimes. Still whispers. But the kids were thriving, and that was what mattered. They had seven adults who loved them unconditionally, who showed up for every school event, sports game, and dance recital. They had stability, security, and more love than most kids ever got.
"Mama Aria!" Theo came barreling up the stairs, Oliver right behind him. They'd started calling me that about a year ago, and it still made my throat tight every time. "Can we have popsicles?"
"After dinner," I said. "And you're both covered in sand. Outdoor shower first."
They groaned but headed for the shower station on the side of the deck. I watched them go, these two nine-year-old tornadoes who'd stolen my heart from the very first day.
The sliding door opened behind me, and Noah's arms came around me, his hands settling over mine on my belly. "You should be sitting down," he murmured against my neck. "You've been on your feet all day."
"I'm pregnant, not broken," I said, but I leaned back against him anyway. "Besides, I like watching them. They're so happy here."
"We're all happy here." His hands moved in slow circles, and the baby kicked again, harder this time. "There's our little troublemaker."
"Your troublemaker," I corrected. "This kid has your energy."
"Could be Ronan's brooding."
"Could be Liam's stubbornness."
"Definitely has Gabriel's timing—always making themselves known at the most inconvenient moments."
I laughed, turning in his arms to face him.
He looked good—relaxed in a way he rarely was back home, where he was always juggling work, kids, and the million details of keeping our household running.
The sun had brought out the gold in his hair, and his eyes were that impossible blue that still made my breath catch.
"I love you," I said, reaching up to cup his face.
"I love you too." He kissed me, soft and sweet. "All of you."
The door slid open again, and Julian stuck his head out. "Dinner's almost ready. Can you wrangle the herd?"
"On it," Noah said, but he stole one more kiss before heading down to the beach.
I followed Julian inside, where the kitchen was a controlled chaos. Ethan was at the stove, Ronan was setting the long dining table, and Gabriel was helping Leo wash his hands at the sink. Liam had Mila on his shoulders, her sand dollar clutched carefully in one hand.
This. This was everything.
"Sit," Ethan ordered when he saw me. "You've been on your feet enough."
"I'm fine—"
"Sit," all six of them said in unison, and I laughed, holding up my hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay. I'm sitting."
I settled into one of the chairs at the head of the table, and within minutes, the kids came thundering in, all seven of them talking at once about their day.
Mason had found a crab. Caleb had swum out to the sandbar.
The twins had built a castle that Finn had immediately destroyed, leading to a brief war that Leo had somehow mediated.
Dinner was loud and chaotic and perfect. Plates were passed, drinks were spilled and cleaned up, and the kids peppered us with questions about tomorrow's plans.
"Can we go to the pier?" Mila asked.
"Can we rent kayaks?" Caleb added.
"Can we get ice cream?" That was Finn, always thinking about food.
"Yes to all of it," Liam said. "But only if everyone eats their vegetables tonight."
There was a collective groan, but they all dutifully started eating their broccoli.
"Mama Aria," Oliver said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter. "When the baby comes, will you still have time for us?"
The table went quiet. I looked at his worried little face, and my heart clenched.
"Oh, sweetheart," I reached across the table to take his hand. "I will always have time for you. All of you. Having a baby doesn't mean I love you any less. It just means we have one more person to love."
"But babies need a lot of attention," Theo said, his brow furrowed in a way that was pure Noah. "That's what my teacher said."
"They do," I agreed. "But you know what? I have six dads to help me. And seven amazing big siblings who I know are going to be the best helpers ever."
"I can teach the baby about cars," Leo offered.
"I can read to them," Mila said.
"I can make sure they don't eat sand," Finn added, and everyone laughed.
"See?" I said to Oliver and Theo. "We're all in this together. That's what makes us special."
Oliver seemed satisfied with that, and the conversation moved on to other things. But I caught Noah's eye across the table, and the look he gave me was pure love.
After dinner, we herded the kids upstairs to the bunk room they'd all insisted on sharing. It was a tight fit—four sets of bunks crammed into one large room—but they loved it. Loved the sleepover feeling of it, the whispered conversations after lights out.
I made the rounds, kissing foreheads and tucking in blankets, while the guys handled teeth-brushing and pajama-wrangling.
"Goodnight, Mama Aria," each of them said, and each time, my heart grew a little fuller.
By the time we got them all settled, I was exhausted. The baby had been pressing on my bladder all day, my back ached, and my feet were swollen. But it was a good exhaustion, the kind that came from a day well-lived.
"Bath?" Ronan suggested when we finally made it back downstairs.
"God, yes."
But when I walked into the master bedroom, I stopped short.
They'd transformed it. Candles everywhere, casting soft golden light. The doors to the private deck were open, letting in the sound of the waves and the cool evening breeze. Rose petals were scattered across the bed, and soft music was playing from somewhere.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice catching.
"This," Gabriel said, coming up behind me and sliding his arms around my waist, his hands settling on my belly, "is us taking care of you."
"You take care of me every day."
"Then consider this a bonus," Liam said with a grin.
Julian took my hand, leading me toward the bathroom, where the massive soaking tub was already filled, more candles surrounding it. "Bath first. Then we'll see where the night takes us."
They undressed me slowly, reverently, six pairs of hands gentle on my skin. I'd been self-conscious about my changing body at first—the stretch marks, the swollen breasts, the roundness of my belly. But the way they looked at me, the way they touched me, made me feel like a goddess.
The bath was perfect—hot but not too hot, scented with lavender, and big enough that Julian and Ethan both climbed in with me, supporting me between them while they washed my hair and massaged my aching muscles.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Ethan murmured, his hands moving over my belly. "I can't stop staring at you."
"I'm huge," I said, but I was smiling.
"You're perfect," Julian corrected. "You're growing our baby. Nothing is more beautiful than that."
By the time they helped me out of the tub and dried me off, I was relaxed and warm and already getting aroused. Pregnancy had done weird things to my sex drive—some days I couldn't stand to be touched, but other days, I was insatiable.
Today was definitely an insatiable day.