Extended Epilogue
FAYE
The late afternoon sun spills gold across the rows of vines, turning the leaves into flickering lanterns.
Eve's laughter rings sharp and bright, a sound that still catches in my chest every time I hear it.
She darts between the gnarled trunks, her dark braids whipping behind her like twin flags, her small hands clutching a fistful of wildflowers she's been collecting.
Brandon, only a year younger but already built like a tank, barrels after her, his chubby legs pumping hard enough to kick up dust. And Frank—our youngest, barely a year old—rides on Flynn's shoulders, his chubby fingers tangled in his father's silver-streaked hair, squealing every time Flynn pretends to stumble.
"Gotcha!" Flynn's voice rumbles, deep and warm, as he lunges forward and scoops Eve up first, her shriek dissolving into giggles as he swings her into the air. Brandon doesn't even try to escape, he just crashes into Flynn's legs, wrapping his arms around his father's knees like a barnacle.
Flynn bends, scooping him up too, and for a moment, the three of them are a tangle of limbs and laughter, Frank bouncing on Flynn's shoulders like a tiny king surveying his kingdom.
I lean against the nearest trellis, my arms crossed over my chest, watching them.
The vineyard stretches around us, lush and alive, the air thick with the scent of ripening grapes and warm earth.
It's the kind of moment that should feel ordinary—just another evening, just another game of chase—but it doesn't. Not to me.
My throat tightens.
Flynn turns, his amber eyes finding mine over the heads of our children. He doesn't smile, not really, but his gaze softens, just for me. Like he knows. Like he always knows.
"Mama!" Eve wriggles in his arms, her small hands reaching for me. "Come play!"
I push off the trellis, my bare feet sinking into the soft soil. "What are we playing?"
"Tag!" Brandon declares, already squirming to be put down. Flynn sets him on his feet, and he immediately takes off, his little legs carrying him in a wobbly sprint toward the next row of vines.
Frank claps his hands, his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. "Tag! Tag!"
Flynn lowers him to the ground, steadying him with a hand on his back. "Go on, little man. Show ‘em how fast you are."
Frank wobbles forward, his diapered bottom swaying as he toddles after his siblings. I laugh, the sound bubbling up before I can stop it, and Flynn's gaze snaps back to me. There's something in his eyes, something dark and hungry, even now, even after all these years.
I step closer, my fingers brushing against his as I pass. "You're gonna let them win, right?"
His hand catches mine, his grip firm. "Of course."
Then he's moving, his long strides eating up the distance between us and the kids.
Eve shrieks as he scoops her up again, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Brandon whoops and changes direction, darting between the vines, and Frank lets out a delighted squeal, his chubby legs pumping as he tries to keep up.
I chase after them, my heart pounding, my breath coming fast. The sun dips lower, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange, and for a moment, it's just us—just our laughter, just the sound of our children's joy, just the way Flynn's eyes find mine every few seconds, like he's making sure I'm still here.
Eve twists in Flynn's arms, her small hands grabbing at my shirt as I catch up. "Mama, you're it!"
I tap her nose, my fingers lingering for just a second. "Cheater."
She giggles, and Flynn sets her down, his hand resting on the small of my back as I crouch to her level. "Go on," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Tag ‘em."
I take off after Brandon first, my bare feet slapping against the dirt. He squeals and bolts, his little legs carrying him in a zigzag pattern, and I let him get ahead—just for a second—before I lunge, my fingers brushing against his shirt.
"Gotcha!"
He dissolves into giggles, collapsing against me, and I scoop him up, spinning him in a circle. His laughter is infectious, bright and wild, and I press a kiss to his sweaty forehead before setting him down.
Frank is next. He's slower, his wobbly steps making him an easy target, but I still chase him, my hands outstretched, my voice teasing. "I'm gonna get you, little man!"
He squeals, his chubby legs pumping, and just as I'm about to catch him, Flynn swoops in, scooping him up and tossing him into the air. Frank's laughter is pure, unfiltered joy, and I watch them, my chest tight.
Eve is last. She's faster than the boys, her small body darting between the vines with surprising agility. I chase her, my breath coming in sharp gasps, my heart pounding. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes wide and bright.
I catch her at the edge of the vineyard, my arms wrapping around her waist as I lift her off the ground. She shrieks, her small hands grabbing at my arms, her laughter ringing out across the rows.
"Mama's fast!" she declares, breathless.
I set her down, my hands lingering on her shoulders. "And you're sneaky."
She grins, her dark eyes sparkling. "That's ‘cause I learned from the best."
I laugh, the sound warm and rich, and Flynn's gaze finds mine again. There's something in his expression—something soft, something proud—and I know, without words, what he's thinking.
This is our legacy.
Not just the winery. Not just the wine.
This.
I reach for him, my fingers brushing against his calloused hand. He laces his fingers through mine, his grip firm, possessive. Eve and Brandon race ahead, their voices rising in a fresh round of laughter, and Frank toddles after them, his chubby legs carrying him forward.
Flynn pulls me close, his arm slipping around my waist, his lips brushing against my temple. "Tired?" he murmurs.
I shake my head. "Never."
He hums, the sound low and satisfied, and we walk together, our children's laughter weaving around us like a spell.
The sun dips lower, painting the vineyard in gold, and for the first time in a long time, I don't think about the work waiting for me inside. I don't think about the harvest, or the bottles, or the legacy Evelyn left behind.
I just think about this.
About them.
About the way Flynn's hand feels in mine, the way his voice rumbles when he calls our children back for dinner, the way Eve's laughter still catches in my chest every time I hear it.
About the way my heart feels full.
About the way I know, without a doubt, that this is exactly where I'm meant to be.
The house is quiet now. The kids are finally asleep, their small bodies curled under blankets, their laughter still echoing in the corners of my mind.
I stand in the doorway of Eve's room, watching her chest rise and fall, her dark hair fanned out across the pillow.
Brandon's door is cracked, his nightlight casting a soft glow over his face, and Frank's crib is just visible from the hall, his tiny fist curled near his cheek.
I exhale, my fingers brushing against the doorframe.
Flynn's footsteps are soft behind me, but I still hear them. The floorboards creak under his weight, and then his hands are on my hips, his breath warm against my neck. "They're out," he murmurs.
I nod, leaning back into him. His chest is solid against my spine, his heartbeat steady. "For now."
He chuckles, the sound low and rough. "For at least a few hours."
I turn in his arms, my hands sliding up his chest. His shirt is soft under my fingers, the fabric worn thin from years of wear. I trace the lines of his muscles, the way they shift under my touch, and for a second, I let myself wonder.
Does he still see me the same way?
The thought slips in, quiet and insidious.
My body isn't what it was before the kids.
My stomach is softer, my hips wider, my skin marked with silver lines that tell the story of the babies I've carried.
I've seen the way women in magazines look—sleek, polished, untouched—and I know I'm none of those things.
When we get to our bedroom, Flynn's fingers tilt my chin up, his amber eyes dark in the dim light. "What's that look for?"
I swallow. "Nothing."
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. "Liar."
I exhale, my breath shaky. "I just…" My fingers curl into his shirt. "Do you still think I'm beautiful?"
The words hang between us, heavy and raw. Flynn's expression doesn't change, but his grip on my chin tightens, just slightly. "Faye."
I shake my head. "I know I'm being stupid. It's just?—"
"It's not stupid." His voice is rough, his other hand sliding down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. "But it's bullshit."
I blink.
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Every mark on your body is proof of what we've built. Every curve, every stretch, every fucking change—it's all mine." His teeth graze my earlobe, and I shiver. "And I've never wanted you more than I do right now."
My breath catches. "Flynn?—"
"You think I don't notice the way your tits fill out?
The way your hips sway when you walk? The way your pussy gets wet when I look at you like this?
" His hand slides down, his fingers pressing against the seam of my jeans.
"You think I don't dream about breeding you again?
About watching your belly swell with another one of my babies? "
I whimper, my knees weak.
He smirks, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Still doubt me?"
I shake my head, my cheeks burning.
"Good." His voice drops, rough and commanding. "Now take off your clothes."
I obey without thinking, my fingers trembling as I pull my shirt over my head. My bra follows, my nipples already hard, aching for his touch. Flynn's gaze darkens as he takes me in, his hands sliding up my sides, his thumbs brushing over the swell of my breasts.
"Fuck, Faye." His voice is a growl. "Look at you."
I bite my lip, my body trembling under his touch. "Daddy…"
He groans, his hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs rolling over my nipples. "That's it. Beg for it."
I whimper as he pinches, the sharp pleasure-pain making my knees buckle. He catches me, his arm wrapping around my waist, and then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding. His tongue slides against mine, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, and I melt into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. His hands slide down to my jeans, his fingers deft as he undoes the button, the zipper. He pushes them down, his hands gripping my ass, squeezing.
"Step out," he orders.
I do, my breath coming in sharp gasps as his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. He pulls them down, his knuckles brushing against my thighs, and then I'm standing there, completely bare, my skin prickling under his gaze.
Flynn steps back, his eyes raking over me. "On the bed."
I climb onto the mattress, my body trembling. He follows, his hands sliding up my thighs, spreading me open. His breath is hot against my skin, and then his tongue is there, licking a slow, torturous line up my slit.
I gasp, my back arching. "Daddy, please?—"
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my clit. "Please what?"
"Make me come."
His tongue circles my clit, slow and teasing. "You want to come?"
"Yes!"
"Then beg."
I whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Please, Daddy. Please make me come. I need it."
His tongue flicks faster, his fingers sliding inside me, curling just right. I cry out, my hips bucking against his face, and then I'm coming, my body shaking, my vision white with pleasure.
Flynn doesn't stop. He licks me through it, his fingers working me, drawing out every last shudder. When I finally collapse against the bed, breathless and trembling, he kisses my inner thigh, his stubble rough against my skin.
"Still think I don't want you?" he murmurs.
I shake my head, my body boneless.
He smirks, his hands sliding up my body, his lips brushing against mine. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
I whimper as he rolls me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me up onto my knees. His cock presses against my entrance, thick and hot, and I moan, my fingers clutching at the sheets.
"Daddy's gonna breed you tonight," he growls, his fingers digging into my skin. "Gonna fill you up with my cum, make sure you take every last drop."
I whimper, my body trembling. "Yes, Daddy."
He thrusts inside me, his cock stretching me open, filling me completely. I cry out, my back arching, and he groans, his hands gripping my hips tighter.
"Fuck, Faye. You feel so good."
I moan, my body already climbing toward another orgasm. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slapping against mine, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me over and over.
"Daddy, I'm gonna come?—"
"Not yet," he growls, his hand sliding around to my clit, his fingers rubbing in tight circles. "You come when I say you come."
I whimper, my body trembling on the edge. "Please?—"
"Now."
I shatter, my orgasm crashing over me, my body shaking, my vision going white. Flynn groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he's coming too, his cock pulsing inside me, his cum filling me up.
He collapses over me, his breath hot against my neck. "Still think I don't want you?"
I laugh, breathless. "No, Daddy."
He kisses my shoulder, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. "Good. Because I'm not stopping tonight."
I whimper, my body already responding to his touch. "Even if I fall asleep?"
His lips brush against my ear. "Especially then."
I shiver, my body aching in the best way. "Promise?"
His teeth graze my earlobe. "Always."