Epilogue - Grace
I should’ve known Kane would pull something like this.
I should have seen it coming.
But no, I made the tragic mistake of believing that today—the day I am actively bringing his child into the world—would be the one day he’d drop the whole marry me or else routine.
Clearly, I overestimated his ability to not be a stubborn jackass.
Because right now, as I sit in the godforsaken passenger seat of Kane’s freaking minivan, legs spread, water broken, contractions hitting like a damn freight train—he won’t start the damn thing.
No. Instead, my ridiculous excuse for a boyfriend—who I love, damn it, but who is still an absolute asshat—is sitting there, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his knee, looking at me like he has all the time in the world.
"Kane. Start the damn van," I grit out, clutching my stomach as another contraction ripples through me, making me white-knuckle the armrest.
He shakes his head, completely unbothered. "Not until you say yes. "
I gape at him. "Are you—have you lost your ever-loving mind?!"
He lifts a brow, as if I’m the unreasonable one in this scenario. "Babe, I’ve been asking you to marry me for seven months." He taps the wheel casually, like we’re not currently on a countdown to me giving birth in this godforsaken van. "You’ve shot me down every time."
"I was going to say yes!" I shout, because holy hell, another contraction is building, and I am not about to die in a minivan.
He squints at me, unconvinced. "When exactly?"
"The next time you asked ! "
"Well, now's the next time," he says smoothly.
I glare at him. "You do not deserve my yes right now!"
Kane just grins, and oh, if I wasn’t currently trying to not deliver a baby in a minivan, I would strangle him.
Instead, another contraction hits, and my entire body goes rigid. "Oh, god?—"
"Okay, okay, babe, breathe," Kane soothes, finally— finally —doing something useful by gripping my hand. "Like in class, remember? In through the nose, out through the mouth."
I don’t want to breathe. I want to murder him.
"In through the nose, out through the mouth , Gracie," he says again, rubbing slow, firm circles on my back.
"Shut up," I hiss, sucking in a stilted breath and exhaling through my teeth. "I hate you."
He laughs—this asshole laughs. "You love me."
I open my mouth to argue, but then—then he does the thing.
The thing where his voice drops low, where his hand grips mine just a little bit tighter, where his dark eyes go soft in a way that turns me to absolute mush.
"I love you, Gracie," he says, and it’s not cocky or teasing this time. It’s real. Raw .
Like he’s laying every single part of himself out in front of me, offering me everything.
And damn it.
Damn it, I do love him.
I always have.
I exhale sharply, closing my eyes, because I hate that he gets to have this moment—this victory—while I’m in labor.
But when I open my eyes, he’s still looking at me—really looking at me, like I’m the only thing that matters in the entire world.
I let out a shuddering breath, and before I can chicken out, I finally, for the first time, say it.
"For the love of everything holy, Kane—I love you, too."
His entire face lights up, and then—"So you’ll marry me?"
I scream as another contraction tears through me, gripping his hand so hard I hear him curse .
"Fine ! " I shriek. "Yes! I’ll marry you! NOW START THE DAMN VAN!"
He doesn’t hesitate.
The engine roars to life, tires screeching as he reverses out of the driveway so fast I almost forget I’m about to give birth.
Almost.
"Push, Gracie. Come on, sweetheart, you’ve got this," Kane says, his voice right next to my ear as I grip his shirt for dear life.
"I will kill you," I pant, sobbing through the contraction. "I hate you—I hate everyone in this room!"
The doctor doesn’t even flinch. "You’re doing great, Grace."
I don’t believe her.
I am not doing great .
I am dying.
Another contraction crashes through me, and Kane—bless him—doesn’t even flinch when I dig my nails into his arm.
Instead, he kisses my forehead, murmuring, "You’re so fucking strong, baby. Just a little more."
I sob as I push, my body splitting in two?—
And then—then I hear it.
A cry.
A loud, furious, brand new little cry.
My body collapses back against the bed, my vision blurring as the doctor lifts our screaming baby into the air.
I hear Kane inhale sharply beside me, his hand tightening on mine as they place the tiny, wailing bundle onto my chest.
My heart stops. "Oh my god," I whisper, blinking back the most ridiculous wave of emotion I’ve ever felt in my life.
Kane is silent beside me, and when I glance at him, my breath catches.
He’s wrecked. Completely, utterly undone.
He reaches out, brushing a shaking finger over our baby’s head, exhaling sharply. "Holy shit."
I let out a wet laugh. "Yeah."
The nurse smiles. "You have a beautiful baby girl."
A girl.
My chest tightens with emotion as I stare down at her—her tiny fingers curled into fists; her scrunched-up little face already so expressive.
"A girl," Kane repeats, his voice hoarse, his eyes locked onto her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
I nod, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "A girl."
He swallows thickly, then looks at me. "Gracie, she’s perfect."
I bite my lip, because yeah. She really is.
He presses a kiss to my temple, then my cheek, then my lips, and even though I’m exhausted, even though I am covered in sweat, it’s the best kiss of my entire damn life.
And then, he leans down and whispers something so soft, so low, I almost miss it.
"Thank you . "
I blink, caught off guard by the pure, raw emotion in his voice.
"For what?" I whisper.
His gaze drags over my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek.
"For loving me," he murmurs, voice rough. "For this. For her."
And just like that—I know. Kane is never going to let us go.
I smile, pressing a hand to his cheek. "You’re stuck with us, firefighter."
His lips twitch, but his voice is serious when he says, "Damn right, I am . "
Then, with a soft chuckle, he brushes his knuckles over our daughter’s tiny hand and murmurs, "Welcome to the world, little troublemaker . "