Epilogue
THEO
Six months.
Six months since I proposed, three since I married her, and I still wake up every morning half-convinced I'm dreaming.
Sunlight streams through the bedroom window, washing everything in gold.
I turn my head, find Tessa curled on her side beside me, one hand tucked under her cheek.
The other rests on the pillow between us, and the light catches on her wedding ring—white gold band nestled against the engagement ring I gave her.
My wife.
The words still hit me like a punch to the chest every time I think them.
We got married three months ago at a boutique hotel downtown.
Small ceremony, just thirty people. Tessa's mom flew in, brought her stepdad and younger brother.
Mia was there, crying through the whole thing.
A handful of my colleagues. Nothing big, nothing elaborate.
Just us, promising forever in front of the people who mattered.
Tessa wore a simple white dress that made her look like something out of a dream. I'd barely held it together watching her walk down that aisle. Had to grip my hands behind my back to keep from reaching for her before she made it to me.
Honeymoon in Italy. Two weeks of her in sundresses and me unable to keep my hands off her. Rome, Florence, the Amalfi Coast. Best two weeks of my life, and that's saying something considering every day with her feels like the best day of my life.
Now we're back. Settled into married life in our apartment. The same one we found together, the one we christened in every room before we'd even finished unpacking.
Everything is perfect.
Better than perfect.
I watch Tessa sleep for another minute, studying the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Then I carefully extract myself from the bed, moving slowly to avoid waking her.
She's been exhausted lately. Sleeping more than usual, going to bed early and still dragging in the mornings. I'd written it off as stress from her semester finals at first, but those ended two weeks ago and she's only gotten more tired.
And there are other things I've noticed.
She's been nauseous several mornings this week. Yesterday she skipped her coffee entirely, said the smell made her stomach turn. Day before that, she'd gotten emotional over a fucking commercial—some sappy thing about a puppy finding a home. She'd cried for ten minutes.
Her breasts look fuller too. More sensitive. Two days ago I'd grabbed one the way I usually do and she'd winced, pushed my hand away.
I'm not an idiot.
I know what those signs mean.
But I haven't said anything. Waiting for her to notice, to connect the dots herself. Don't want to assume and be wrong, don't want to get my hopes up.
But fuck, I hope I'm right.
We haven't been trying for a baby. Haven't had any conversations about when or if we want kids.
But we also haven't been preventing anything.
I finish inside her every time—multiple times a day.
Our arrangement is still going strong; I fuck her while she sleeps at least twice a week, fill her with cum and leave her marked and claimed.
Of course she's pregnant.
The thought sends heat rushing through me, anticipation and possessiveness and something deeper I can't quite name.
I make it to the kitchen, start the coffee maker. It's just past eight-thirty on a Saturday. No work, nowhere to be. Just us and the whole weekend stretching ahead.
I'm pouring my first cup when I hear movement from the bedroom. Footsteps, faster than usual.
Then the bathroom door slams.
Retching sounds follow.
I set my mug down, cross the apartment in quick strides. Knock gently on the bathroom door.
"Tessa? You okay?"
"Don't come in!" Her voice comes out weak, strained.
I wait, leaning against the doorframe. Hear the toilet flush, water running in the sink. She's in there for another minute before the door opens.
She emerges pale and shaky, one hand pressed to her stomach. Dark hair tangled around her shoulders, wearing just one of my t-shirts and sleep shorts.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "I just... my stomach..."
I steady her with both hands on her shoulders, studying her face. "How long has this been happening?"
"Few days. Maybe a week." She looks up at me, and I watch realization dawn slowly in her eyes. "Oh. Oh my God."
"Come on." I guide her to the couch, sit her down carefully. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
"Where are you?—"
But I'm already moving, grabbing my keys and wallet from the counter. She needs to know for sure. We both do.
The pharmacy is only ten minutes away. I park illegally out front, don't give a fuck. Inside, I find the aisle with pregnancy tests, grab three different kinds without bothering to read the boxes. Better to have options.
The girl at the register is maybe twenty, gives me a knowing smile as she scans them. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
Fifteen minutes after I left, I'm back. Tessa is still on the couch where I left her, knees drawn up to her chest. She looks up when I walk in, eyes wide and uncertain.
I hold out the pharmacy bag.
She stares at it like it might bite her. "You think I'm...?"
"I think it's possible." I sit beside her, set the bag between us. "Very possible."
"We weren't trying."
"I know. But we weren't preventing anything either."
She nods slowly, processing. Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for the bag, opens it. Three test boxes inside.
"Okay," she says quietly. "I'll... I'll take them."
"Want me to come with you?"
"No. I'll do it alone."
She stands, takes the bag, disappears into the bathroom. The door closes with a soft click.
I pace the living room. Can't sit still, can't focus on anything. My mind races through possibilities, outcomes, futures.
Please be positive.
Please.
I want this. Didn't know how much until right now, but I want it with an intensity that almost scares me. Want to see her pregnant with my child. Want to watch her belly swell, want to feel the baby move. Want to see her become a mother.
Want everything.
Five minutes pass.
Ten.
I check my watch three times, convinced it's broken.
Finally, the bathroom door opens.
Tessa emerges holding all three tests. Tears stream down her face, but she's not making any sound. Just standing there, crying silently.
My heart stops.
"Baby?"
She holds up the tests wordlessly.
All three show two clear lines.
Positive.
"I'm pregnant," she whispers. "We're going to have a baby."
Relief and joy crash over me so hard I can barely breathe. I cross to her in three long strides, pull her into my arms, lift her off the ground completely.
"Tessa." Her name comes out rough, choked. "Fuck, Tessa."
She's crying harder now, clinging to me, face buried against my neck. "Are you happy?"
"Happy?" I set her down but don't let go, frame her face with both hands so she has to look at me. "I'm fucking ecstatic."
"Really?"
"Really. You're carrying my baby. Our baby."
She pulls back slightly, studying my face like she's searching for any hint of doubt. "I'm scared."
"I know. Me too." I press my forehead to hers. "But we'll figure it out."
"We're going to be parents."
"Yes. And you're going to be an amazing mother."
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. I kiss them away, tasting salt, feeling her shake against me.
We end up on the couch, Tessa curled against my side like she can't get close enough. My hand rests on her stomach, flat and soft under my palm. No sign yet of what's growing inside her, but it's there. Our baby.
"How far along do you think?" I ask.
"I don't know. My period is late, but I didn't think... we need to see a doctor."
"We'll make an appointment Monday."
"This is crazy." She turns her head, looks up at me. "We've only been married three months."
"I've been filling you with cum multiple times a day for seven months. It's not that crazy."
She laughs, watery but genuine. The sound makes something in my chest loosen. "I guess not."
Silence settles over us. My thumb traces circles on her stomach, gentle and possessive. Can't stop touching her, can't stop thinking about what this means.
"Are you really happy?" she asks again, quieter this time.
I tilt her face up, kiss her deeply. Pour everything I'm feeling into it—love and joy and overwhelming gratitude that she's mine, that she's giving me this.
"I've never been happier," I tell her when I pull back. "You're my wife. You're carrying my child. This is everything."
"Everything," she echoes.
She shifts in my arms, a new energy in her movements. "I want to celebrate."
"Celebrate how?"
She straddles my lap in one smooth motion, faces me directly. The position puts her right where I can feel every inch of her against me.
"How do you think?"
My hands automatically grip her hips. "Tessa?—"
"I'm pregnant with your baby, Theo." She grinds down on me, and I feel myself hardening immediately. "Your baby is inside me right now."
"Fuck." The word comes out half-groan.
"I want you. Want to feel you. Want to remember this moment."
She rolls her hips again, and my control starts slipping. "Need you."
I capture her mouth in a searing kiss, one hand fisting in her hair. She tastes like toothpaste and something sweeter, something that's just her.
"Bedroom," I manage between kisses. "Now."
We stumble down the hall, can't keep our hands off each other. By the time we reach the bed, Tessa is pulling off her t-shirt, nothing underneath. Her breasts are fuller than they were a month ago, nipples darker. Already changing.
"You're so fucking beautiful."
She reaches for my shirt, tugs it over my head. "I'm going to get bigger."
"I know." I back her toward the bed, watch her sink onto the edge. "Gonna watch every change. Love every second of it."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I strip off my sweatpants, nothing underneath either. My cock is already hard, aching. Tessa's eyes drop to it, pupils dilating.
"Come here," I tell her.
She shifts back on the bed, lies down. I follow, covering her body with mine, careful to keep most of my weight off her. One hand slides down to hook in the waistband of her sleep shorts.
"These need to come off."
She lifts her hips, lets me pull them down and off. No underwear. She's already wet, and when I slide two fingers through her folds, she gasps.
"So ready for me."
"Always."
I position myself at her entrance, pause to look into her eyes. "This is different now."
"How?"
"You're my wife. And you're carrying my baby. Every fantasy I've ever had is coming true."
"Show me."
I push inside slowly, watching her face. Her mouth falls open, eyes fluttering half-closed. "Ahh... so good..."
"You're tighter."
"Am I?"
"Mmm." I sink deeper, feeling her pussy grip my cock. "Everything about you is already changing."
I thrust gently at first, careful not to hurt her. But she feels perfect around me—hot and tight and mine. "Gonna take care of you. Through everything."
"I know."
"Gonna watch you grow." I pick up the pace slightly. "Belly swelling with my baby."
"Yes... oh God..." Her nails dig into my shoulders.
"Gonna worship every change. Love every inch of you."
"Theo!"
I increase the pace, hitting deeper now. The angle has me brushing against that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Her pussy clenches around me, pulling me in.
"My pregnant wife," I growl against her neck. "My beautiful, perfect wife."
"Oh fuck—yes?—"
Her orgasm hits suddenly, back arching off the bed. "Ahh! I love you!"
"Love you too, baby." I thrust through her climax, feeling her pussy spasm around my cock. "So fucking much."
My own release crashes over me seconds later. I bury myself deep and come hard, filling her with my cum. She's already pregnant, but the act feels symbolic anyway—claiming her, marking her, loving her.
We collapse together, both breathing hard. I pull out carefully, immediately gather her into my arms. Can't stand not touching her.
"That was..." she trails off.
"Perfect," I finish.
"Yeah."
My hand finds her stomach again, rests there. "I can't believe we're having a baby."
"Me neither."
"I'm going to be a dad."
She tilts her head back to look at me, smiling. "You're going to be a great dad."
"You think?"
"I know."
We lie there for a while, just breathing together. Sunlight streams through the window, warming the bed. Everything feels suspended, perfect, like if we move too much the moment will shatter.
"We need to set up a nursery," Tessa says eventually.
"The second bedroom."
"Yes. We'll need a crib, changing table, all of it."
"We have time."
"Not that much time. Seven or eight months."
"We'll figure it out. Together."
She smiles, content. "I need to call my mom. And Mia. They're going to freak out."
"Later." I pull her closer. "Right now, I just want to hold you."
"Okay."
Silence settles again, comfortable and warm. My hand stays on her stomach, imagining what's growing there. Our child. Part of me, part of her. The future made real.
"Theo?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really happy."
"Me too, baby." I press a kiss to her hair. "Me too."
She relaxes against me, breathing evening out. Within minutes, she's asleep—exhausted from the emotional morning, from growing our baby.
I stay awake, holding her. Thinking about nurseries and midnight feedings and teaching our kid to ride a bike. Thinking about Tessa with a swollen belly, glowing and beautiful. Thinking about everything we're going to build together.
Six months ago, I proposed. Three months ago, I married her. Now we're having a baby.
The future stretches ahead, bright and full of promise. And I can't wait to live every second of it with her.
My wife.
The mother of my child.
Mine.