Epilogue
PAXTON
The hospital room smells like antiseptic and the faintest trace of Paige's scent clinging to the air. My fingers are still trembling when I brush them against her cheek, her skin damp with exhaustion, her eyes half-lidded but shining.
"You did so good," I murmur, my voice rough. She turns her face into my palm, her lips pressing a kiss against my callouses. The movement is small, weary, but it sends a jolt straight through me.
The nurse bustles in, her smile warm, her hands gentle as she checks the monitors. "Mrs. Miller," she says, "you've got two beautiful babies here. Would you like to hold them?"
Paige's breath hitches. She nods, her fingers tightening around mine.
I don't let go as the nurse places our son against her chest first—tiny, wrinkled, his face scrunched like he's already deciding the world is too loud. His fingers curl around Paige's thumb, and something inside my chest cracks open.
Beside them, our daughter lets out a soft, indignant cry, her hair damp against her scalp, her mouth working like she's searching for something.
"Here, Daddy," the nurse says, transferring her into my arms before I can ask. The weight of her is nothing, a warm, wriggling bundle of life, and I freeze, suddenly terrified I'll drop her. But then she blinks up at me, her eyes hazy and unfocused, and my heart stutters.
Paige's gaze flicks to me, her lips curving. "You're a natural," she teases, her voice weak but warm.
I scoff, but my throat is too tight to tease back. Instead, I shift closer, pressing my shoulder against hers so she can see both of them at once. Our son lets out a tiny, contented sigh, his body relaxing against her, and Sienna's cries quiet as she nuzzles into the crook of my arm.
The nurse beams at us. "They're perfect. Have you decided on names?"
Paige looks at me, her eyes soft. "Shawn," she says, nodding at the boy in her arms. "And Sienna."
The names settle over me like a vow. Shawn—strong, steady, like the man I've spent my life trying to be. And Sienna—bright, fierce, just like her mother.
"Good choices," the nurse says, jotting something down on her chart. "I'll give you all some time. Ring if you need anything."
The door clicks shut behind her, leaving us in silence, broken only by the soft sounds of our children breathing.
Paige's fingers brush against Shawn's cheek, her touch featherlight. "We made them," she whispers, like she can't quite believe it.
I swallow hard. "Yeah. We did."
She tilts her head back against the pillow, her eyes drifting shut for a moment before she forces them open again, like she's afraid if she blinks, they'll disappear. "I was so scared," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not just of the birth. Of everything. Of not being enough."
My grip on Sienna tightens instinctively. "You're more than enough," I growl. "You're everything."
Paige's lips tremble, her eyes glistening. "I know," she says, and the quiet certainty in her voice makes my chest ache. "But it's different now. Knowing they're ours. Knowing I have to keep them safe."
I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. "You don't have to do it alone."
She exhales, her breath warm against my lips. "I know that too."
Shawn stirs in her arms, his tiny mouth puckering, and Paige shifts him higher, her movements automatic, practiced. Sienna lets out a soft, impatient sound, and I adjust my hold, cradling her closer.
Paige watches me, her gaze soft. "You're going to be an amazing father."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I've spent my life being feared, respected, obeyed, but this? This is different. This is more.
I don't answer. I can't. Instead, I press a kiss to Sienna's forehead, then to Shawn's forehead, and finally Paige's, my lips lingering against her skin.
The future stretches out in front of us, uncertain and bright, but for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of it.
Because I have them.
And they have me.
The room is warm, the soft glow of the nightlight casting long shadows across the nursery walls.
Paige's head lolls against the rocking chair, her breath slow and even, her fingers still curled loosely around Shawn's blanket like she's afraid to let go.
I watch her for a moment, the way her lashes fan against her cheeks, the way her lips part slightly with each exhale.
She's never looked more beautiful.
I lean down, brushing a kiss across her forehead, my lips lingering against her skin. She stirs just enough to murmur something unintelligible, her brow furrowing before she sinks deeper into sleep.
Shawn lets out a tiny sigh as I lift him from her arms, his body warm and heavy with exhaustion.
I settle him into the crib, my movements slow, deliberate.
Sienna is already asleep, her tiny fists curled near her face, her chest rising and falling in that perfect, fragile rhythm.
I adjust the blanket around her, my fingers brushing against her soft cheek before I step back.
Paige doesn't wake as I scoop her into my arms. She fits against me like she was made for it, her head tucking into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. I carry her out of the nursery, the door clicking softly shut behind us.
The master bedroom is quiet, the sheets cool as I lay her down. She shifts, her eyelids fluttering, but she doesn't wake. I kneel beside the bed, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. Her pulse flutters beneath my touch, steady and strong.
"Paxton?" Her voice is muffled, her eyes still closed.
"Right here," I murmur.
She hums, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Mmm. Missed you."
I chuckle, low and rough. "You've been asleep for twenty minutes."
"Still missed you."
My heart beats faster. I press another kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She sighs, her body relaxing into the mattress.
"It's sad," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not being able to… you know. For weeks."
I drag my thumb across her bottom lip, watching the way her breath hitches. "The doctor said no penetration," I remind her, my voice dropping. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you feel good."
Her eyelids flutter open, her hazel eyes dark in the dim light. "I'm tired," she protests, but there's no real conviction in her voice.
I smirk. "Then sleep."
She blinks up at me, her lips parting. "What?"
I lean closer, my breath hot against her ear. "You don't have to do anything. Just lie there and let me take care of you."
Her breath catches, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "What about you?—"
"Shh." I press a finger to her lips. "No arguing. No thinking. Just feel."
She swallows hard, her gaze locked on mine. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the exhaustion, the desire, the quiet surrender. But she doesn't say no.
My hands slide up her thighs, pushing the hem of her nightgown higher, higher, until the cool air hits her skin. She shivers, her breath hitching as I trace the lace edge of her panties.
I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then another, my lips lingering against her skin. She sighs, her fingers brushing weakly against my hair.
"Sleep," I murmur, pulling the covers over her. "I'll be right here."
She doesn't argue.
She just closes her eyes and lets me take care of her.