Epilogue #3
At one point the prospects roll out a massive sheet cake that reads “Congratulations on Knocking Up Your Nurse!” in bright red frosting.
Tiny barks out a laugh so loud it echoes through the room.
He stands up, pulls me to my feet with him, and plants a big possessive kiss on me while the whole club whoops and hollers.
“Damn right I did!” he announces proudly, one hand still on my belly.
“Best thing I ever did. Look at her. My Buttercup is glowing and growing my baby. None of you assholes better forget who put that bump there. I’ll remind you with my fist if I have to. ”
The room erupts in cheers and filthy jokes. I bury my burning face in Tiny’s chest while he just rubs my back and chuckles, completely unbothered. “Let ’em talk, baby. They’re all just jealous I knocked up the hottest nurse in Florida.”
As the sun starts to dip lower, the party shows no signs of slowing.
The girls keep refilling my mocktails and taking pictures of every ridiculous moment.
Tiny never leaves my side. He growls at brothers who laugh too loud near me, dramatically fluffs the pillows on the couch for me, and at one point actually carries me across the room when I mention my feet are a little sore.
Perdition has never been louder, brighter, or more absurdly perfect.
Surrounded by our wild, loud, ridiculous chosen family, I rest my head on Tiny’s shoulder and smile while he presses another kiss to my temple and whispers, “I love you so damn much, Buttercup. This is nothing. Just wait till she’s here. I’m gonna be even worse.”
Our little girl is going to be so loved it’s almost unfair.
Spring arrives with the baby. Labor hits hard, but Tiny stays right there.
Wiping my forehead, telling me I’m strong, holding my hand through every contraction.
When our daughter finally cries, the room fills with joy.
Tiny cuts the cord with tears running down his face as the nurse places her on my chest. “She’s perfect,” he says, voice breaking. “Look at her, Buttercup.”
We name her Rose. She has Tiny’s dark hair and my eyes. The club throws a huge welcome party, brothers passing her around carefully. Pres holds her like she might break. “Next generation right here,” he says proudly.
The years keep moving. Rose grows fast, toddling across the porch and reaching for Tiny’s bike. He scoops her up laughing. “Not yet, little one. But Daddy will teach you when you’re ready.”
I return to work part time. Tiny supports every shift and takes Rose to the garage some days. She sits on his lap while he works. The girls watch her when I need them. Our village feels strong and unbreakable.
Evenings stay my favorite. We eat dinner as a family. Rose babbles stories about her day while Tiny listens like every word matters. Afterward we rock on the porch. Rose falls asleep on his chest. I watch them and feel completely whole.
One night after she goes down, Tiny pulls me close in bed. “Five years ago I asked you to build this life with me, Buttercup. Every day since has been better than the last.”
I kiss him slowly. “I say yes every morning I wake up next to you.”
Rose turns three and we throw her a big party at the clubhouse.
The yard is absolutely covered in balloons of every color, bouncing wildly in the breeze while kids dart between them screaming with laughter.
Tables groan under piles of food and a massive cake decorated with tiny bikes and pink flowers.
Frosting and cake smears across little faces as the kids dig in with their hands, giggling the whole time.
Tiny carries Rose on his shoulders for most of the afternoon, her chubby hands gripping his hair as she giggles wildly above the crowd.
“Higher, Daddy!” she squeals, and Tiny happily obliges, strutting around like a proud peacock while making engine noises to make her laugh even harder.
Every few minutes he reaches up to steady her with one big hand, his face lit up with pure joy.
Scarlett snaps pictures nonstop, capturing every chaotic moment.
Tessa dances with her own kids in the middle of the yard, spinning them until they’re dizzy and collapsing in giggles.
Hadley and Erica chase the twins around the perimeter, pretending to be monsters while the boys shriek and run faster.
The girl group stays as tight as ever. Between the noise and running around we manage to steal quiet moments on the edge of the porch, talking about dreams and fears and all the wins that brought us here.
They lift me up every single time, just like they always have.
Tiny eventually sets Rose down so she can run to her friends, but he immediately pulls me into his arms from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Look at all this, Buttercup,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. “Our family. Blood and chosen.”
I lean back into his warm chest. “It’s beautiful.”
Rose spots us and comes running, wrapping her small arms around both our legs. “Love you, Mama! Love you, Daddy!”
Tiny scoops her up instantly and we hold her between us, her tiny arms wrapping around our necks. Joy fills me so full I could burst. This is the life we chose, the one we fought for, and the one that keeps giving.