Bonus Epilogue #3
Over the week we spend in the Maldives, I take every opportunity to remind her of our love, to relax, and that the world will still be waiting when we get back from our trip, so she might as well enjoy it while she’s here.
We swim, we fuck, we feast on incredible dishes that make Harlowe’s foodie heart happy, and we make more memories in our happy place that started our story.
When we get home, we’re both more refreshed and happier than ever to see our kids and look forward to the future with three littles.
Harlowe
One year later
Axel, my spicy chili pepper, is now six months old and giving me a run for my money.
Predictably, the little terror is nothing like Hendricks or Hana, and is a daredevil adrenaline junkie like his father.
Already, he's trying to pull himself up to standing despite being too unsteady to stay there. We have to watch him at all times because he likes to throw everything he can get his hands on. He has remarkably good aim for a baby with limited vision, meaning his toys can do some damage if left unattended. His cries are vicious when we take away his projectile missiles, but it’s better for all our safety if he doesn't have anything that can be used as a weapon. Instead of a rock star or a professional athlete, I think I have a mercenary in the making. I mean, as long as he’s happy doing whatever he decides to do in the future, who am I to judge?
I’m also pregnant with our fourth, and last, child.
My tubes are being tied as soon as this one pops out.
Three babies in a row is a lot, and the idea of having three children under three in a matter of months, especially with Axel in the mix, is exhausting.
Even with the help of nannies, our lives are insane.
But I love every second of it and wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Give me that baby, Lolo,” Knox says, seeing Axel’s hand wrapping into my hair as I try to get a snack for Hana, who is crying in her high chair, waiting for food.
I hand off the baby to my gay bestie, and we both work to remove his stubborn fingers from my hair. Paloma bustles in with Demi on her hip and kisses my cheek.
“I brought things for virgin mimosas for you so brunch can be fun again and we can celebrate your next season of The Foulmouthed Foodie At Home kicking off,” she says, setting a tote on the long marble island in the kitchen.
“Virgin mimosas?” I ask with a laugh. “Isn’t that just orange juice?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like you can have champagne when you’re pregnant.
And Dios, woman, you’ve been pregnant for years, do you even remember what it’s like to drink at this point?
” she asks, setting her baby girl into a high chair next to Hana and smoothing her hand over both their heads of wild, dark hair before coming back to the kitchen to help with brunch prep.
“I miss red wine,” I say forlornly, giving Hana some cut-up fruit as I place the rest of the platter on the table. Knox bounces Axel and walks around the island, keeping my fussy baby occupied.
“I miss girls' nights out,” Callie says. “But we all have kids now, and it’s hard to arrange sitters and our schedules. Who knew we would get so boring?”
“At least we still have brunch,” Knox says, swaying with Axel like the practiced baby whisperer he is.
He’s so good with my kids, whether he’s building tracks and playing with cars with Hendricks, or holding Hana or Axel and keeping them calm when everything else is a whirlwind around me.
I just love having him around, but even more, I love his friendship.
Zander’s even come around and likes hanging with my big, quietly gay, bestie.
What’s not to love about a guy like him?
“We’ll be back to girls’ nights and brunch with real mimosas soon enough,” I promise. “But for now, we enjoy our besties brunch in a modified capacity and with lots of littles present.”
I set a platter of orange zest French toast onto the table, next to a covered dish of eggs Benedict, and the fruit I put there a moment before.
Paloma pours orange juice into champagne flutes as they’re abstaining from alcohol in sympathy for my state.
Callie makes plates for the girls while Knox settles Axel into a high chair next to his seat so he can feed him pureed baby food and little bites from a plate I’ve made especially for my tiny terror.
“Careful with that plate,” I warn Knox. “He’ll throw it on the floor if you take your eyes off him for one second. Ask me how I know.” I give him a look, and he laughs knowingly.
“This silly goose doesn’t know he’s got it good with a mama who makes him gourmet baby food and perfectly balanced meals every day. You’re a lucky duck, aren’t you?” he says, booping Axel on the nose and getting a giggle.
“I think that one would eat like a feral raccoon if given half the chance. He’s a wild child, always looking to escape or make war in some fashion,” I say.
I rub my belly, grateful to not be craving spicy foods this time around.
“I’m praying this last one isn’t as wild or I’ll have to get live-in help. ”