Epilogue #3
“Come here, buddy.” Drake pulled Sawyer into his lap, hugging him tight without a care for the wrinkles forming in his suit.
“You will never, ever truly be alone. You’ll have your brother at school, you will undoubtedly make more friends than names I can remember, and we’ll see each other again during the holidays.
Just remember that even when we aren’t right beside you, you will always have me, your mother, Aiden, Lyra, and your grandparents. And we are all so, so proud of you.”
Sawyer’s whisper made my heart warm. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I love you, buddy.”
“Love you, too.”
Drake set the boy down and straightened out his uniform. “Alright, now we should probably go before your mother?—”
“Before I do what?” I pushed the door fully open and greeted them with a cheeky smile.
As always, Drake’s eyes darkened as he scanned me from head to toe. The corner of his lips quirked in a devious smirk. “Before she bites my head off.” He greeted me halfway across the patio, sliding an arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“You like when I bite,” I hummed quietly in his ear.
He groaned and dropped his head back. “You make me weak in the knees, Monty. God help me.”
Ignoring Drake, I crouched down and opened my arms. Sawyer melted into my hug without hesitation. I inhaled the scent of my son and pressed my cheek into his soft curls. Then, as any mother would, really, I peppered his face with loud, dramatic kisses.
“Oh, Mom!” he swiped his hands over his cheeks, which only smeared my lipstick further. “Now I’m all red!”
“Go wipe off your face and collect your siblings, please. We’re running late.” I sent him inside with a last kiss to the head.
Drake’s arm snuck around my waist, tugging me to his side. I allowed the moment, always eager for his touch (even though we really were quite late). Resting my head on his shoulder, I soaked up the warmth and bliss of my husband’s arms wrapped around me.
“He’ll be alright,” he said, reassuring himself more than me.
“They both will be,” I agreed, patting his chest over his heart. If we had more time, I’d sink into him and relish his embrace. As if the thought summoned them, three smiling children rushed outside to interrupt.
“Mom, I can’t find my sock! I just had it on?—”
“Where’s my book bag?”
“Dad, have you seen my rugby shoes?”
“—oh, it was in my pocket. Sock. Pocket. Socket.”
“I found the bag, but I’m missing a book! I can’t go without my collector’s edition about the history of trains in the United Kingdom!”
The supervised chaos continued. Through the mayhem of frazzled children and the short ride to St. Henry’s, I had the absolute pleasure of watching Drake manage the bedlam. He was astoundingly good with the children. Even the chaotic little gremlin that was his angel Lyra.
If someone had asked me twenty years ago if Drake Graham would make a good father, I would have laughed in their face.
And I would have seemed like a fool. He seamlessly transitioned into fatherhood the instant he found out we were having Aiden.
There wasn’t a more doting, cherishing, adoring parent in the world.
He made it easy to want a second baby. The third was inevitable after that.
Drake held Lyra as I hugged Aiden and Sawyer at the front gates of St. Henry’s. We watched as the elder brother held the younger's hand and guided him through the crowd of other students buzzing and excited for a new year.
Another kid bumped into Sawyer, sending the book on train history falling onto the gravel walkway. I lurched to run through the crowd to help him. However, Drake caught my wrist and held me back.
The kid who knocked into Sawyer turned around.
He bent over and picked up the book, smiling widely as he handed it back.
Aiden watched over his little brother, controlling a smile as Sawyer and the boy shook hands.
It seemed the two were chattering excitedly about the cover and book contents when they turned away.
They walked inside the front doors together.
Drake and I shared hopeful, content smiles. His thumb stroked the back of my hand, lingering even after the final herd of children vanished into the school. Lyra squirmed out of his arms to climb back into the waiting car as the other parents dispersed.
My husband draped an arm around my shoulder, and I felt so tranquil and unworried at that moment. When he pressed his head to mine, breath tickling my neck, a shiver raced down my spine. Then he kissed me, slow and unhurried.
I had everything I needed and more than I ever dreamed of wanting. Drake and I stared at the front gates of St. Henry’s, where our story began so long ago. Nothing in the world could have wiped the smile off my face. Until my utterly insufferable husband opened his mouth again.
“Let’s have another one.” Honey dripped off his words, full of wanting and heat.
I whirled on him, jamming a manicured nail into the center of his broad chest. “If you ever say that again, Drake Graham, I will promptly kill you.”
Drake stared at me with wonder in his eyes, like a man seeing his happy ending and knowing he’d earned it. “God, I love it when you flirt with me.”