Chapter One
Winnie
One year later…
I cuddle Wes a little closer, tucking him to my chest and breathing in his baby scent. Well, Wes Jr., I guess I should say— my son .
Needless to say, things have taken quite a turn in the last year. Not only are we diving headfirst into the teenage years with Lexi, but we’re also starting all over again…with a miracle.
I’d pretty much given up hope of having another baby, and I’d even made peace with it. But sometimes the best changes in life happen when you’re least expecting them—that’s how it’s always been for me, honestly.
Going it alone with Lexi. Falling in love with my boss. Making some of the best friends a girl could ask for. Finally— finally —getting the opportunity to watch all my rowdy brothers fall in love. And now, this , holding my baby boy in my arms.
Wes Jr. is four months old, but I swear, I feel like it was yesterday that I watched him take his first breath. Felt his sweet little body against my chest. And stared up into the eyes of my husband as he looked at his son for the first time and witnessed our family of three become four.
After one last snuggle, I pull my little miracle away from my body and tuck him against my husband’s chest as carefully as possible. As always, Wes is unbelievably patient. He knows how much being able to have this baby means to me, and he knows I’m only neurotic because I care so much. Still, that doesn’t stop a small, teasing smile from creeping into the corner of his handsome mouth.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask for the forty-seventh time in the last twenty minutes. “I can just keep him with me. It’s no big deal.”
Wes’s smile grows. “I’m sure, Win. And it’s Ty’s wedding. You deserve to let loose. Enjoy yourself. All you’ve done for the last year is worry about doing the right things for the baby.”
“I just want—”
“Baby,” he interrupts softly. “I know. But I promise I’ve got this. The men will handle the kids while you ladies have some much-deserved fun.”
I exhale a heavy breath, lean forward to kiss Wes Jr. on the forehead once more, and then nod. “Okay, boss. I’ll let loose and have fun.”
My handsome husband smirks down at me and discreetly pinches my ass. “That’s what I like to hear.”
I roll my eyes at him, but I also smile when he places an undeniably sweet kiss to my lips. Just a soft sweep of his tongue makes it way more intimate than a simple peck.
My whole face feels light with love and easiness as he pulls away, remarking, “You know, it didn’t take Flynn, Jude, Remy, or Ty nearly this much convincing to get their women to hand over their kids. Matter of fact, it took them barely any convincing at all.”
I snort, glance over my shoulder at the gabbing, slightly tipsy, celebrating women behind me, and then turn back to Wes. “That’s because none of them have known my brothers as long as I have. It’s going to be chaos, I know it.”
“Winnie, come on!” Sophie finally whines, holding up a glass of champagne as she runs over to me. “Enough talking to boys! It’s time to drink.”
After I give one last glance and eyebrow raise to my husband, he backs out of the door, and Sophie shoves in to close it behind him, leaving me alone in the bridal suite of the Carlyle Hotel, of all places—I know, trust me, I know—with my mom, Aunt Paula, Sophie, Daisy, Maria, the beautiful bride-to-be, Rachel, and her sister, Lydia, and her wife, Lou.
“Finally! Let’s party!” Sophie cries, run-skipping her way back over toward Daisy to give her a high five.
Rachel’s sister Lydia laughs, and her wife Lou looks on with wide eyes. I can’t know for sure, but I have a feeling she’s underestimated the power of a first-time mother’s first night of freedom.
And to complicate matters, there are four of us in here with babies five months and under.
Fortune-Teller Cleo’s little warning at family dinner a year ago grossly underprepared us for just how many Winslow women were with child . And since then, Maria, Sophie, Rachel, and I have spent the last year being pregnant and taking care of our newborns.
Daisy was the only one who wasn’t pregnant, but with two rambunctious toddlers, she’s not exactly spending her Saturday nights partying. With the freedom to do just that tonight, I have a feeling it’s going to get wild.
Rachel stands in front of a huge floor-length mirror, her beaded, mermaid dress hugging the curves of her body perfectly. She smiles at the image of herself and then takes a swig of champagne worthy of a frat boy chugging beer. I smile at the cuteness of her nerves—because unlike all those years ago at this very hotel for Remy’s non-wedding, the vibe is entirely anticipatory.
It’s happy. Excited. And filled with nothing but love.
“Am I really getting married? Finally?” Rachel asks in a broad survey of the room. “After years of freaking waiting, it’s really happening?”
My mom jumps from her place at Rachel’s side and wraps her arms around her in a hug. Aunt Paula smiles and squeezes the veil she’s holding a little tighter. I’m expecting a touching moment between the mother of the groom and the bride, but what we get instead is a hiccupping sob from Wendy that makes my eyebrows shoot together.
“Mom?” I question, a little worried. Maria stands from her spot on the couch, concern creasing the skin of her forehead.
Wendy leans back and gently takes Rachel’s face in her hands. “I’m just so fucking happy Ty’s found someone who can stand him.”
Cackles break out across the room at both the vibrant language and the message, and Aunt Paula reaches out to take my mom’s champagne glass from her hand, commenting, “I think someone might have had enough.”
Rachel just laughs and nods. Oh yeah, she knows exactly who she’s marrying. More than that, she can’t wait. Frankly, she’s been waiting a long time.
When Maria announced her pregnancy at family dinner a year ago, none of us had a freaking clue what was in store—four babies for four different couples in the Winslow clan, all arriving within two months of one another.
Since Daisy was the only one spared from our weird pregnancy pact, Rachel and Ty made the difficult but necessary decision to delay their nuptials until we could all have a chance to carry, deliver, and heal.
It was undoubtedly the right choice, but I know if I’d been asked to wait another entire year to marry the love of my life, I’d have been on pins and needles.
A knock sounds on the door, and Daisy jumps up from her spot on the chaise longue with a plate of fruit and runs in her hunter-green satin bridesmaid dress to answer it. I half expect it to be one of our husbands, in the middle of a childcare crisis, but Daisy’s slow retreat from whoever is out there says otherwise.
I crane my neck to look as she backs out of the bridal suite doorway slowly, her eyes big with surprise.
Dressed in green satin just like the rest of us, the infamous Cleo enters the room, a red-lipped smile growing with every step. Her fascinating eyes are alight, and her skin is flawless. It’s been a year since the first and last time I saw her—since she correctly predicted my miracle—and she looks even younger than before.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I believe in her magic. Honestly, with the way everything has turned out for all of us, I think she might even do a little bit more than relay the hand of fate.
That doesn’t mean I’m not surprised to see her here, though, and from the looks on all the faces of all these beautiful women, I’m not the only one.
Rachel, it seems, is the only one wearing a satisfied smile. Turning carefully so as to not catch the beads of her train on any of the furniture, the bride-to-be closes the distance between herself and Cleo and then pulls her into a hug.
“I’m so glad you came.”
“Oh, my dear,” Cleo replies through a melodic laugh. “I wouldn’t miss this opportunity.”
Rachel is practically beside herself as she squeezes Cleo’s shoulders on a giggle. “I cannot wait to see Ty’s face when he sees you standing up there behind me.”
“I’ve seen it, my love.” Cleo flashes a knowing smile and a little wink. “And I assure you, it won’t disappoint.”
My tipsy mother makes her way across the room, somehow stealing another glass of champagne without Aunt Paula’s intervention, and saunters over to the two of them excitedly.
“How does it work, Miss Cleo?” my mom asks, taking me on a seriously weird trip to an alternate universe. Wendy Winslow has always been the definition of practical. Mild-mannered, tough when she needed to be, loving even more often. She was the rock of our family for all the years that we needed one, and she always put our needs ahead of her own. What she wasn’t was fanciful or anywhere close to a woman who would believe in horoscopes or psychics or fortune-tellers . “The whole fortune-reading, future-seeing thing. Can you only see it for some people, or do you have a line of sight for everyone?”
Cleo smiles softly. “I can see you, if that’s what you’re wondering, my darling Wendy. I can see all of my precious Winslows.”
“You can?” I find myself asking without thought. It’s so unlike me—a woman formed in the footprint of her practical mother.
Cleo turns to me and nods serenely. “Oh yes, my dear. I always regretted not meeting the final Winslow sibling earlier in life.”
“Am I…am I where you saw me being?”
Cleo shakes her head and bites into the red lipstick on her bottom lip with her teeth. Somehow, none of it transfers or stains. Seriously, magic. “You, my dear, have done me one better. I always saw this life for you, after all the heartache you’ve bested, but the way you embrace it, nurture it—that’s beyond fate, my love. That’s all you.”
“I love my life,” I reply, knowing with every ounce of my being it’s true. I was happy before—with Wes and Lexi—but now…now that Wes Jr. has a piece of my heart too, I feel complete .
“I know you do, my darling.” Cleo scans the room and smiles at all of us. “You all do. And it brings me great joy to be a part of it.”
Suddenly, there’s a bang and a snap and a pop from the room next door, followed by a toddler shriek and the deep, richness of several grown men shouting. All of our heads whip in that direction, and a small bout of panic grips my chest.
But Cleo—Cleo just laughs.
“All is well, my dears. All is very, very well.” She places an arm around Rachel and ushers her back to the mirror with gentle kindness. “Come now, my darling. Let us get you ready to say ‘I do.’”