EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Lottie
Whenever the entire Winters family gets together at Ford and Landyn’s house, it’s less of a casual Sunday barbecue and more of a full-scale production.
Ford mans the grill, convincing his brothers they can’t cook as well as him.
Madeline and Noah bicker over the playlist and who gets control of the speaker.
Poppy makes the rounds, determined to soak up every ounce of attention she can get while her new baby sister gets passed from one set of eager arms to another.
Two weeks ago, Landyn gave birth to a healthy baby girl they named Nola.
It’s loud and chaotic and filled with love, and somehow Ford and Landyn’s mansion doesn’t feel big enough to contain it all. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t imagine my life without them.
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own lemonade, my love,” I remind Wes as he hands me an ice cold glass and a plate piled with salads and a hamburger straight off the grill. “And getting my own burger.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep bringing me things?”
He looks at me like the answer is painfully obvious. “Because you’re growing our baby.”
My heart betrays me with the tiniest squeeze.
He’s been like this ever since I told him.
If I so much as mention that my back hurts, Wes is behind me with a heating pad.
If I yawn, I’m immediately instructed to go take a nap.
Last week, he drove to three supermarkets because I casually mentioned I could really go for some strawberry ice cream.
He came home with four different brands.
It’s equally adorable as it is overwhelming.
I shake my head. “I’m fourteen weeks pregnant, Pilot. Not ninety years old.”
He shrugs. “It’s doctor’s orders.”
I laugh. “Our doctor never said that.”
From behind the barbecue, Jesse snorts. “You’re losing this argument, Lottie.”
“I think you’re right.”
Ford flips another burger before glancing over his shoulder. “I’ve never seen Wes so whipped.”
“I prefer devoted,” Wes replies without missing a beat as he takes the seat next to me at the long table on Ford and Landyn’s patio.
“I miss being able to carry my own plate,” I tease him. My handsome husband is hopelessly overprotective, and it only makes me love him more.
My hand drifts absentmindedly to my stomach.
It’s still too early to feel kicks or know whether we’re having a little boy or girl.
It’s too early for a nursery—at least, that’s what I keep telling Wes.
He’s already picked out the room at the end of the hallway and is itching to put a crib together.
We’ve spent more evenings than I can count standing in the doorway debating paint colors and laughing over which of us the baby is going to look like.
For now, we’ve settled on soft neutrals, warm wood, and sage green as an accent color. Wes says it doesn’t matter what color we paint the walls because our baby will spend more time in our room than the nursery anyway. He’s probably right.
We’re excited —more than either of us knows how to put into words. And Wes has directed all of that excitement toward taking care of me.
As if on cue, he leans into me and presses a soft kiss against my temple.
“You need anything else, Peach?” he asks, unfolding my napkin and draping it across my lap.
I look up at him. “You know I can do that myself, right?”
“I know.” He smiles, completely unbothered. “But I like taking care of my girl.”
Across from us, Noah shakes his head into his beer. “Never thought I’d see the day that my brother would voluntarily become someone’s personal assistant.”
Laughter ripples around the table.
Jesse points his fork at Wes. “He’s got a point. The guy used to live out of a duffel bag. Now he’s worried that your napkin might not be straight.”
Wes doesn’t even flinch. He casually drapes an arm across the back of my chair. “Worth it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Noah fishing his phone from the pocket of his shorts.
His thumb swipes across the screen. At first, I don’t think anything of it, but then his entire expression changes.
Every trace of color drains from his face.
His jaw tightens. His eyes race across whatever he’s reading, then back again, like he’s convinced he must’ve misunderstood.
The easy laughter around the table fades into the background.
Something is wrong.
A knot forms low in my stomach.
Noah slowly lowers the phone, staring at nothing for a long beat before looking back down at the screen.
“You okay, Noah?” My voice cuts through the conversation.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks back down at his phone before slowly lifting his eyes to meet ours.
“I…” He shakes his head. “I think my security camera just picked up someone leaving something on my front porch.”
Ford frowns. “Okay. What kind of something?”
Noah swallows. “I don’t…” He pinches the screen, zooming in. The conversation around the table has stopped entirely now as we wait for him to fill us in.
“What is it?” Wes asks.
Noah’s eyes never leave his phone.
“I think someone just left a baby on my doorstep.”
His words are met by a stunned silence and then Noah pushes back from the table so quickly that his chair scrapes across the patio. “I have to go.”
Beside me, Wes is already standing. Our eyes meet as he leans down to steal a quick kiss before resting his hand on my stomach. “I’m going to go check on him.” He kisses me again as his thumb brushes my cheek. “Don’t lift anything. And make sure you eat.”
“Pilot…”
“I love you, Peach. I’ll be back soon.”
“I love you too.”
I watch Wes follow Noah out of the yard, both of them moving with a sense of purpose that sends an uneasy feeling through my stomach.
I have no idea what’s waiting for Noah, but whatever comes next, at least he has Wes, Ford, and Jesse to help him through it. That’s what the Winters brothers do. They show up for each other.
Even when life is about to change forever…
THE END.