Epilogue - Morgan
Gabbi turned one today.
We didn’t do anything big. No rented hall, no balloons scraping the ceiling, no crowd. Just our small apartment, the one that still smelled faintly of paint and pizza and us, and the people who mattered.
Cole. Me. Gabbi’s grandparents. Cole’s parents came too.
I did think about inviting some of the Guardian Hall people, but I said I would visit tomorrow instead.
Because this small celebration was all the better for being quiet.
Margaret and Edward brought a pile of brightly wrapped presents; plus, an envelope they said was legal papers for Gabbi’s place in their world.
Security, if she ever needed it. They already had college funds set aside for Gabbi, promises of everything she’d ever need, but every single time they saw me they told me that I was her father and I had to do what felt right.
They were determined to avoid the mistakes they had admitted to.
Too many nannies, too little family time, too much money, and not enough love.
I didn’t want their money, not for me, but I would never turn down the possibility of a college education if that is what Gabbi wanted.
Eleanor and James had another pile of gifts and another envelope.
I swear if both sets of grandparents had given me money…
And yeah, Cole’s parents were also very much in the role of grandparents to Gabbi, and they’d become good friends with Margaret and Edward through me and Cole being together.
There was a cake on the counter—banana, because Gabbi loved it, and because no one needed frosting in their hair—and a single candle we didn’t even bother lighting.
She was more interested in the cardboard box the cake had come in, clapping when I pushed it across the floor as if it was the best gift she’d ever received.
Cole took photos from the doorway, half-laughing, half-trying to pretend he wasn’t getting emotional about it. He failed. Spectacularly.
“She’s walking,” Margaret said as Gabbi held her hand and took a shaky step. “Did you see that, Edward?”
Edward was on his knees, tears in his eyes as he held out his hands. “She’s so clever! Aren’t you, Gabbi… so clever?” He swung her into his arms and smooched her belly, and she laughed so hard that he kept doing it.
Neither set of grandparents had her overnight like they wanted—I wasn’t ready for that yet—but all of us were going away for a vacation to Cole’s family’s place for a summer break, which was only a few weeks away, and I was working hard to relax my control as a nervous first-time dad.
They never forced me, though, and that was everything.
We’d gone to Annie’s grave last weekend on what would have been her birthday, and I held Gabbi the entire time, and listened to stories of better times, the ones they would want Gabbi to know for now. It was cathartic for us all, I think.
“She’s doing it again!” Margaret exclaimed as Gabbi took a single bumpy step toward Eleanor.
“This morning, she went three steps on her own,” Cole said with unashamed pride. “Then she sat down, all surprised.”
That earned a laugh, and Gabbi grinned as if she knew she was the reason.
Cole had mentioned adoption, marriage, more kids, the works. Not directly, but a few hints about a sibling for Gabbi and a home that would be open to a big family.
I caught Margaret and Eleanor whispering in the tiny kitchen, and I swear I caught the word wedding, but they pretended they’d been talking about coffee, and I let them get away with it.
A wedding?
One day. Maybe. Soon.
Later, when the dishes were done and the apartment had settled back into its normal quiet, Cole sat on the floor with Gabbi leaning against his chest, her fingers tangled in his shirt. She trusted him completely. That still caught me off guard sometimes.
I leaned in the doorway and watched them.
Last Christmas, when I’d reached rock bottom, when Annie had died, when Gabbi had been everything, I’d been afraid of taking up space. Afraid of staying too long. Afraid that if I leaned, everything would fall apart.
Now there was a home that held us safe, and in a while, maybe I’d move upstairs, because Cole spent every night down here anyway.
He said it was because it was cozy and this was where Gabbi was, and that it had nothing to do with me, but then he’d kiss me and tell me he was joking. The kissing always led to more.
I crossed the room and sat beside them, pressing my shoulder into Cole’s. He glanced at me, smiling, the easy kind that didn’t ask for anything.
“This is good,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Gabbi lifted her head, blinked at us both, then settled again, safe and warm.
And when everyone had gone, the apartment felt smaller in the best way.
The dishes were neatly stacked by the sink, and the lights were dimmed. Gabbi was asleep in her room, the baby monitor a quiet reassurance on the coffee table.
Cole pressed a kiss to my head.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“More than okay.”
He brushed his thumb along my jaw, slow and unhurried, and I leaned into the touch without thinking, the way my body always seemed to know when it was safe.
We didn’t rush it.
We kissed like people who had time, then deeper, familiar, and new all at once.
His hand curled into my hair, and I rested my forehead against his when we finally pulled back, both of us breathing a little harder.
It was all warmth and closeness and the certainty we were exactly where we were meant to be.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.”
We shed clothes as we went, but ever the responsible dad, I picked everything up and put it in my room, checking the monitor was switched on, and only then was I ready to be tugged onto the bed.
“I love you,” he murmured, his breath warm, his lips moving to the hollow of my throat.
His teeth grazed there, just enough pressure to make my pulse jump, and his hard cock twitched.
He wasn’t in a hurry, and his hips rolled once, twice, the thick length of him dragging against me, as his fingers found mine, lacing them together.
I loved the weight of his body, the strength in his arms, the way his muscles shifted as he moved.
His other hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me, his grip enough to make my hips jerk.
“Easy,” he breathed, his lips brushing my ear. “Just feel it. Just let me.” And I did. I let him.
“I love you,” I told him when he broke kissing me to reach for lube.
“And I love you,” he said and crouched between my spread legs, smiling at me as he worked me open with maddening patience, his thumb still circling the head of my cock in lazy strokes.
“You’re so perfect,” he groaned, his voice rough, his forehead resting against mine.
“Fuck, Morgan.” I exhaled, and he rewarded me with a deeper touch, his fingers crooking just right, making my toes curl.
Then—finally—he was there. The broad head of his cock pressed against me, and I held my breath as he pushed in, just the tip, just enough to make me burn. “Cole—” His name came out like a plea, and he gentled me with a kiss.
He sank into me inch by inch, giving me time to adjust, his jaw clenched, and I could feel the tremor in his arms, the way his breath hitched when I clenched around him, my body struggling to take all of him.
He was big, but the way he moved… God, the way he moved.
Slow, shallow thrusts at first, letting me feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside me.
His hips rolled in a steady rhythm, his cock touching that spot deep inside that made my vision blur.
“Cole, please—” I didn’t even know what I was begging for. More. Less. Everything.
He groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, his breath coming faster.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice rough, his control fraying.
His hands slid under me, gripping my ass, tilting my hips just right, and then he was there, hitting that spot over and over, his thrusts deeper, harder, but still controlled.
Still his. “Mine,” he breathed, kissing my neck, his teeth scraping my pulse point. “All mine.”
I came with my fist in my mouth, muffling my cry, my cock spurting between us.
Cole followed with a groan, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his come hot and thick inside me.
He collapsed over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his heart hammering.
His breath was ragged, his skin slick with sweat, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were dark, his gaze possessive.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time, like it was just for me. His fingers tangled in my hair, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.
Afterward, we stayed entangled, my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulders. He traced idle patterns along my back, grounding me in the here and now.
“This is perfect,” I said because it felt important to say it out loud.
“Yeah,” he agreed. I listened to his heartbeat slow beneath my ear as he fell asleep.
We were home.
Gabbi and I were safe.
And for the first time, I knew it wasn’t just because someone was holding us up.
I could give my daughter a good life. Start my course next semester. Build a career.
I didn’t have to be perfect to find my happiness.
I was enough.
THE END