Epilogue #2
Dante’s already in the driver’s seat. “We good?” he asks, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Ethan secures the carrier into the base, tugs on it with both hands to test it, then tugs again. “It feels loose.”
“It’s not,” I assure him. “It’s as secure as it gets.”
He doesn’t seem convinced but stops messing with it. Instead, he places his arm over the car seat and grips the opposite side.
Reece finishes buckling Aurora’s seat belt. “We’re good. Let’s go.”
She rests her head against his shoulder, eyelids heavy. “How long until we’re home?” She yawns.
She wears a brave face, but exhaustion lingers in the dark hollows under her eyes. I promised myself—and Ethan—I’d spoil her, make this as easy as I can for her, and I intend to keep that promise.
I don’t mind getting up with our son or changing his diaper.
Ethan can’t look at a dirty diaper without gagging, but he enjoys feeding Eli.
Reece is still reluctant to care for the baby; he focuses more on Aurora, which is perfectly fine.
We all have our place, and I know he’ll come around.
It didn’t take him long to warm up to Danny, and now, they’re inseparable.
“Thirty minutes, maybe less, depending on traffic,” Des answers.
Dante pulls away from the curb, and the photographers follow us to the stoplight. A few of them jog alongside the SUV despite the tinted windows. I instinctively lean over to block Eli, even though they can’t see him.
The light turns green, and a guy steps in front of the bumper.
Dante slams his hand on the horn. “Move, dickhead! It’s too cold to scrape your ass off the pavement.”
Shit, we need to work on our swearing.
Once we’re merged into traffic, I draw the blanket back. Eli sleeps soundly, oblivious to the chaos, his tiny lips pursed, the pacifier dropped and forgotten. He’s so beautiful, so unbelievably small.
My gaze catches Ethan’s. A subtle shift occurs between us, a pang in my chest. We’ve had little time alone; when we did, it was always rushed and full of worry.
Even though we’re elated to have Eli, and I wouldn’t change a single thing, we’ve all been on edge, sleeping poorly.
Finally, we can go home, back to our sanctuary, just the five of us.
Ethan leans over, and I move closer, our heads resting together on the seat.
“I love you,” he whispers. “Never thought I could love anyone this much. You, Aurora, our son—you’re my entire world.”
He presses his lips to mine, and the tension eases from my coiled muscles. His words make my eyes water. Ethan isn’t one for flowery declarations—he saves that for the bedroom—so when he says something, I know he means it with every cell in his body.
I blink to keep the tears at bay. “I love you.” My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “Thank you.” For giving me everything. A family. A life.
Ethan
“Okay, let me see my grandbaby.”
Gram—whose first name I believe is Marie, but I don’t dare call her that—crouches in front of the carrier as I place it on the coffee table. I have no intention of leaving the baby in it. I have more sense than that. I’ve read every bit of newborn advice the internet offers, most of it shitty.
Nothing about our relocation to New York has been orderly. It’s been utter chaos, yet somehow, it’s all worked out.
When Aurora went on bed rest, Gram’s move here was rushed.
She said she preferred her own space—though I believe she doesn’t want to burden us—so Reece took her to tour some of the city’s best assisted living facilities.
She dismissed everyone as either ‘too bougie’ or ‘straitlaced’.
One place, she described as ‘the portal to Hell for rich bitches’.
Aurora hid her face in her hands, while Jackson nearly choked on his water at the dinner table. She’s a spitfire, that woman.
Gram is currently staying in our guest suite while we renovate an apartment for her in the building.
Harper has been incredible, helping us care for her until we get settled and find a visiting nurse.
I was concerned it might be too much for Harper, but Gram has endless patience with Danny, giving Harper a bit of a break while they build Legos, play games, or watch shows.
They also love to spend time with Mrs. Harris.
Rocco and Harper brought Gram and Danny to the hospital, but it was early in our stay, and Eli was in the NICU, being treated for jaundice. This is the first time Aurora’s grandmother has seen him up close.
She pulls off the blanket and peers in. “Oh my heavens, isn’t he precious?” She glances up at me, glassy eyes playfully narrowed. “Ain’t no doubt who the father is, huh?” She slaps me on the bicep affectionately. “You spat him right out, didn’t you?”
Jackson eases the carrier handle back, a smirk on his face, and removes the baby’s hat.
I grin, unable to contain my pride. “Guilty. He’s all mine.” I unfasten the straps, eager to get Eli out of the car seat. I lift him, supporting his head in my hand. The blanket falls away, revealing a tiny Stars jersey over his sleeper, the same color pattern I once wore.
“When did you…?” I trail off, glancing between Aurora, who’s nestled beside Reece on the couch, and Jax.
“Surprise.” He beams, his green eyes sparkling, despite the dark circles underneath. “The team had it custom-made.”
Somehow, I need to get him to sleep more. Hopefully, he will, now that we’re home.
Aurora tilts her head and scrunches her nose. “Not mine. I was working on it, though.”
“I know, baby.” I wink. “It’ll be your designs soon enough.”
We should have consulted a high-risk pregnancy specialist when she was put on bed rest. I won’t repeat that mistake, although there’s a chance she may not develop preeclampsia in the next pregnancy—whenever that might be, if she decides to have another.
I cradle Eli against my chest, adjusting him so I can see the jersey better. Number forty-nine is on the back. My number. The one hanging from the rafters of the arena. My legacy, now wrapped around my son.
In front of everybody, I slip my phone from my pocket and snap a selfie, mostly of Eli.
I have the sudden urge to send it to someone, but who?
Everyone I’m close to, besides Rocco, is in this room.
I don’t have anyone like Gram, and no siblings.
I have no mother, and even if she were alive, I doubt she’d give a fuck.
Staring at my son, I can’t fathom how she didn’t care for me. I grit my teeth to keep from tearing up, my heart hurting—not over my mother, but over a fear that’s only in my head and will never come to fruition. Because I’ll never abandon Eli, never neglect him. Life without him is unimaginable.
The only other relative I have is my father, and as far as I know, I can’t text him a picture. Visiting the prison with a preemie whose immune system is underdeveloped is out of the question, but I really want him to see Eli, his grandson.
I send the photo in a group text to Dimitri and Rocco with no caption, just the baby in his New York Stars jersey.
Rocco
Our future franchise player right there.
Dimitri
Our little prince has come home. Let me know when we can visit.
Fuck it. I’m feeling some sort of way.
Will do. How do I get a picture to my father?
Rocco
They have a messaging system at Rikers. I’ll email you the details. It’s monitored.
What did he think I was going to send? The details of Kyle’s murder? The twins’ body count? Not that I have any of that information, but come on… I’m not a complete moron.
I figured. Thanks.
Gram settles onto the couch and extends her arms. “Hand him over. You had him a week. It’s my turn.”
I put my phone away, take a deep breath, and release it slowly. I know I have to let him go, but he’s barely five pounds, not yet gaining weight. In fact, he’s lost some, which is normal, the nurses tell me.
Still, I hesitate, shifting him so his head rests in my palm, his face tilted toward mine. I can’t stop staring at him. His eyelids flutter but don’t open, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks. In his sleep, his mouth works as if he’s dreaming of eating…
He should probably eat. It’s been about two hours. I part my lips to ask Aurora.
“Son, I raised two children, including Aurora, who was also a preemie,” Gram interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. “I think I can handle a baby for five minutes to an hour.”
With reluctance, I carefully transfer Eli to her waiting hands. My arms feel empty without him, and I can’t help but hover, ready to swoop in if needed.
“Look at him,” she coos, her fingers tracing his round cheek. “Perfect little button nose.” She peers up at me with a knowing smile. “You’re never letting this baby out of your sight, are you?”
Not if I can avoid it.
Reece
I study the pile of neatly organized wooden slats and screws that’ll become the bassinet, forming a game plan. Aurora is in the shower, getting some time to herself. In the background, Gram hums a lullaby to the baby.
Ethan frowns at the instruction manual as if it’s written in hieroglyphics, while Jax grabs two pieces and attempts to force them together.
Frustrated by his mere presence, I snatch a piece from him and flip it over. “It’s upside down, idiot.”
He shoots me a glare. “Why would it be upside down? That doesn’t make sense. It’s curved.”
“Yeah—curved like your dick. The bassinet rocks, dumbass. That’s the bottom.”
“Fucking rude, Viking. My dick is curved for her pleasure. You had to bedazzle yours to make it special.”
“If your wife was so satisfied with your dick, she wouldn’t have two others,” I snap back.
He stares at me, appalled, lips parted, but quickly recovers from the insult. “By that logic, she’s not satisfied with yours either. So fuck off, asshole, and stop talking about my dick unless you want it.”
I curl my lip. “Why are you like this?”
He raises a brow. “Gorgeous? Fuck-hot? Am I turning you on?”
Ethan grips Jackson’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Enough flirting.”
“I’m not flirting.”