Epilogue
Dom
The first thing I hear when I walk through the front door isn't the television or Sophie's cartoons. It's Benny muttering to herself.
"Have to do everything myself. Can't get a break. Unbelievable."
I pause just inside the entryway and quietly set my duffel bag down.
Four days away at training had felt like four weeks.
We'd been scheduled to stay another week before command changed plans and released us early.
I'd driven straight back to Austin, surviving on gas station coffee and beef jerky because all I could think about was getting home to my girls.
Following the sound of her voice, I find her moving around the kitchen. The counters are already spotless, but she's still scrubbing at them with the determination of someone personally offended by a breadcrumb.
I lean against the doorway and watch her for a moment, smiling despite the running commentary. She tosses the rag into the sink with far more force than necessary before marching toward the laundry room, muttering under her breath the entire way.
My gaze catches on the ring glittering on her left hand. Even now, months after slipping it onto her finger, I still find myself staring at it when she isn't looking.
After everything she'd been through, the divorce, the heartbreak, the years of carrying the world on her shoulders, I still have moments where it doesn't feel real. One look at that ring and the truth hits me all over again. She's mine.
She disappears into the laundry room, and a few seconds later I hear a groan of frustration.
"Can't anything go right today?"
My smile softens as I watch her sink into a squat on the laundry room floor, her head dropping into her hands.
"Hi."
The reaction is immediate.
Wyn jerks upright and spins around so fast that she loses her balance. Her knee buckles beneath her and she's halfway to the floor before I catch her. My hands land on her waist as I steady her against me.
"Well," I say, unable to hide my amusement, "this is a welcome home."
Her eyes widen as she stares up at me.
"You weren't supposed to be back for another week."
The words come out shaky before she buries her face in my chest.
I chuckle and wrap my arms around her. "I can leave if you'd prefer."
"No."
The answer is immediate and muffled by my shirt.
A second later she's pressing closer, and before I know what's happening she's climbing me like she's determined to fuse us together.
I catch her automatically as her legs wrap around my waist and her arms lock around my neck.
If I hadn't spent the last fifteen years carrying military gear heavier than twice her weight, I probably would've toppled over.
For a moment I simply hold her. God, I'd missed this. Missed her warmth. Missed having someone waiting for me at home. Missed the way she always fit perfectly against me.
Then I realize she's trembling.
Not crying exactly, but close.
The amusement drains away.
"Babe," I murmur, rubbing a hand along her back. "What happened?"
She lets out a long breath. "I'm a mess."
"Benny."
That earns me the smallest huff of laughter.
When she pulls back enough for me to see her face, exhaustion is written all over it. There are dark circles under her eyes, her hair is escaping whatever attempt she made to tame it this morning, and she looks like she hasn't had a moment to herself in days.
"Sophie's sick," she says.
Concern immediately replaces everything else.
"How sick?"
"Just a cold. At least I think it's just a cold." Her words start tumbling out faster. "She's been cranky since yesterday, barely slept last night, and then she threw up all over her pajamas this morning.
I washed them because they're her favorite ones and she refuses to wear anything else, but then I forgot to start the dryer, so now they're still wet. She keeps asking for them, and I haven't slept, and I think I reheated the same cup of coffee three times today and still forgot to drink it."
I listen quietly while she unloads everything she's been carrying around.
"Then she cried because her nose hurts. Then she cried because I wouldn't let her eat ice cream for breakfast. Then she cried because I gave her the wrong spoon. And I know she's sick and doesn't feel good, but I swear if one more thing goes wrong today, I'm going to lose my mind."
By the time she's finished, she's breathing hard.
I press a kiss to her forehead.
Immediately she goes silent.
Another kiss.
Her eyes close briefly.
"A lot happened," she mutters.
"Sounds like it."
I shift her slightly higher in my arms and start walking toward the living room. She doesn't even protest, which tells me exactly how exhausted she is.
"Where is she?"
"Asleep in her bedroom."
"Fever?"
"A little."
"Medicine?"
"Already gave it to her."
I nod. "Good."
She studies me for a second before resting her forehead against mine. "You always make everything better."
I smile down at her and lower myself onto the couch, taking her with me. "Nah. You're just sleep deprived."
"I'm serious." She settles her head against my chest. "I don't need you to scrub the kitchen or start the dryer or load the washer. This." She nuzzles closer. "This is all I needed."
A chuckle escapes me as I run a hand up and down her back. "Well, I'll still do those things."
"No," she mumbles, already sounding half asleep. "I'll do it. You're tired."
I continue rubbing slow circles across her back.
I am tired.
I may hold the rank of major, but the Army doesn't exactly hand out easier schedules because of it. If anything, we'd been pushed harder. More responsibility. Longer hours. Less sleep.
I'd been skeptical about leaving in the first place. Her parents and sister were already out of town for a family wedding.
But, she'd encouraged me to go. Said she could use the space to think.
Still, sitting here now, guilt creeps in.
I should've said no. I never should've left.
"Stop thinking."
Her hand comes up to cup my cheek.
I blink down at her. "I thought you were asleep."
She cracks one eye open. "I can hear you thinking."
I laugh quietly.
"I'm not a child," she says. "I should've been able to handle this."
"You're tired. Especially since..." I trail off.
"Since I'm pregnant," she finishes softly. "You can say it."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "You told me to give you a few days."
She fiddles with the top button of my shirt. "I went to the doctor today."
"Oh." My hand stills on her back. It's the only thing I manage.
She knows I would've gone with her if she'd wanted me there.
"The doctor said she's aware of my history, but..." Her voice catches. "She said it looks viable."
My entire body freezes. "What?"
Benny nods against me.
I feel tears soaking through my shirt before she finally lifts her head. Her eyes are red and shining.
"I'm already past the first trimester," she whispers. "She said that since I didn't miscarry..." Her voice breaks. "Dom, we're going to have a baby."
For a second I can't breathe.
After everything she'd gone through. After the miscarriage. After the surgery that failed.
"We're going to have another baby?" I ask, needing to hear it again.
A sob escapes her. "Yes."
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. "Oh, God."
I pull her tightly against me.
Then immediately loosen my grip. "Oh, God."
She laughs through her tears. "What?"
"I'm squishing the baby."
A watery giggle escapes her.
"You're fine."
"No. No, I'm not risking it."
"Dom."
I look at her seriously. "Can I treat you like you're pregnant now?"
She blinks. Then nods. "Okay."
"Good."
Before she can protest, I stand, keeping her securely in my arms.
"Dom."
"Nope."
"Dominik."
I carry her upstairs.
"You're being ridiculous."
Without bothering to reply, I walk straight into our bedroom and lower her onto the mattress.
The second I begin to pull away, her arms tighten around my neck.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"Sleep." I demand in answer.
Her eyes narrow. "Dom."
"Doctor's orders."
"Those weren't her orders."
"They're mine."
I gently peel her hands away and kiss her cheek.
Then I switch off the light.
The grumbling that follows me into the bathroom is worth every second.
By the time I come back showered and changed, she's already asleep.
I stand there for a moment, watching her.
My fiancée.
The mother of my children.
The woman I get to spend the rest of my life with.
Then I quietly slip from the room and head down the hall.
Sophie's bedroom door is cracked open.
We upgraded her to a toddler bed days ago, since the crib was way too easy for her to climb out of, but as I step inside, I find myself staring at the empty corner where it used to sit.
Looks like we're going to need that again.
The thought sends a ridiculous grin across my face.
Movement catches my eye.
Sophie's sleepy little face peeks up from beneath her blanket.
"Daddy?"
Her voice is rough from being sick.
"Hey, baby."
The second she reaches for me, I scoop her up.
She immediately wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face against my shoulder.
Just like her mom.
I settle into the chair beside her bed and rub her back while she snuggles closer.
Within minutes her breathing starts slowing again.
I hum quietly, the same tune I've been using since she was small enough to fit against my chest with room to spare.
Now, I know she isn't my biological daughter.
Her father made that perfectly clear.
Money? He'll send.
Time? Effort? Love? Not so much.
For nearly a year now, Benny and I have given him every opportunity to be part of Sophie's life. Every chance to show up.
Again and again, he's chosen not to.
What's worse is that he still refuses to let me adopt her.
Ass.
Sophie's grip tightens slightly in her sleep. I kiss the top of her head.
Paper doesn't make me her father. Showing up does. Being here when she's sick does. Holding her when she cries does.
Teaching her to ride a bike, helping with homework, checking for monsters under the bed, embarrassing her when she's sixteen and walking her down the aisle if she'll let me, that's what makes a father.
Maybe one day there'll be paperwork to match.
Maybe there won't.
Either way, as Sophie sleeps against my chest and the woman I love sleeps down the hall carrying our baby, I know exactly who I am.
I'm her dad.
And that's enough.