Epilogue
Kieran
Eight months later
The nursery smells like baby powder and warm milk, the kind of scent that settles into your bones and makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
I stand by the crib, watching our twins sleep. Damon's tiny fingers curl around Kyler's thumb, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fights falling asleep.
Timothy's already out, his little chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, his lips parted just enough to let out the occasional soft snore.
Kyler picks Damon up, rocking him to sleep.
Kelsey leans against the doorway, arms crossed, her lips curved into that soft smile that still makes my chest tighten. "You two are worse than a pair of mother hens."
Kyler doesn't even glance up, his focus entirely on the baby in his arms. "He's having trouble falling asleep."
"He's trying not to," she says, pushing off the frame and stepping into the room. "They were both falling asleep earlier."
I reach out, brushing my fingers against Timothy's cheek, just to feel the warmth of his skin. "He's just making sure."
Kelsey rolls her eyes, but there's no real heat in it. She knows better than to argue with us when it comes to the boys. She steps closer, her hip brushing against mine as she peers into the crib. "You're going to spoil them rotten."
"That's the plan," Kyler mutters, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His voice is rough, but there's a softness there, something I've only ever seen when he looks at her or the twins.
Kelsey's smile widens, her fingers tangling with mine as she leans into me. "You two are ridiculous."
I squeeze her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "And you're used to it."
The doorbell rings, sharp and sudden, cutting through the quiet of the nursery. Kelsey stiffens, her fingers tightening around mine. "Who is it?"
Kyler exhales through his nose. "Probably your mother again."
Kelsey laughs. "She's been coming here three times this week."
"She misses the boys," I say, though we both know it's more than that. She misses Kelsey.
Kelsey sighs, stepping back from the crib. "I'll go let her in."
Kyler shifts Damon in his arms, the baby stirring just enough to let out a soft, sleepy whimper. "I'll head down after putting him in the crib."
I follow Kelsey out of the nursery, my fingers brushing the small of her back as we head downstairs. The doorbell rings a third time, and she mutters under her breath, quickening her steps.
When she pulls the door open, her mother stands there, arms laden with gift bags, her expression bright but careful. "Kelsey! I was starting to think you weren't home."
Kelsey steps aside, letting her in. "We were just putting the boys down."
Her mother's gaze flicks to me, then back to Kelsey, her smile softening. "I won't stay long. I just wanted to drop these off." She holds up the bags, the paper crinkling. "And maybe sneak a peek at my grandsons."
Kelsey hesitates, but only for a second. "They're asleep, but—"
"I'll be quiet," her mother promises, already stepping past her.
We follow her up the stairs, the wood creaking under our weight. When we reach the landing, her mother pauses in front of the framed wedding photo… Kelsey between us, her hands in ours, her smile brighter than I've ever seen it.
Her mother studies it for a long moment before turning to Kelsey. "I love this photo. You look happy."
Kelsey's fingers twist together. "I was. Still am."
Her mother's gaze flicks to me, then back to her daughter. "I'm glad." She says it quietly, like it's something she's been holding in for a while. "I know I wasn't… the best mother. But seeing you like this—" She gestures to the photo, then to the three of us. "I'm happy for you. For all of you."
Kelsey's throat works, her eyes suddenly too bright. "Mom—"
Her mother waves a hand, blinking fast. "No, no, I didn't come here to make you cry." She steps forward, pressing a quick kiss to Kelsey's cheek before rushing toward the nursery. "Now, let me see those boys."
Kyler steps out just as Kelsey's shoulders start to shake. His jaw tightens, those pewter gray eyes locking onto her like she's the only thing in the room.
"What's wrong?" His voice is low, rough.
Kelsey wipes at her cheeks, laughing through the tears. "Nothing. They're happy tears."
He doesn't relax. Not yet. His gaze flicks to me, searching for confirmation, and I give him the barest nod.
Kyler exhales, some of the tension bleeding out of him, but he doesn't step back. Instead, he reaches for her, his calloused fingers brushing away the last of the tears clinging to her lashes. "Are you that happy?"
She leans into his touch, her lips curving. "Very."
His thumb lingers on her cheek, his voice dropping to something softer, something only she gets to hear. "Good. Because if she made you cry—"
Kelsey cuts him off with a laugh, swatting his hand away. "She didn't. Come on, we have to make sure she doesn't try to wake them after we just put them to sleep."
* * *
Kelsey
A month later
The nursery is a disaster of tiny socks, burp cloths, and half-empty bottles. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as Kyler tries to wrestle a onesie onto Damon's flailing limbs.
"You're doing it wrong," I tease, my voice light.
Kyler shoots me a glare, but there's no real heat in it. "Then get over here and help, Mrs. Dalton."
The name still sends a thrill through me, even after all these months. I push off the frame, stepping into the chaos. "Fine, but only because you're clearly helpless."
Kieran's already got Timothy swaddled like a burrito, but the baby's squirming, his tiny face scrunched in protest. "He doesn't like it," Kieran murmurs, adjusting the fabric.
I reach over, my fingers brushing against his as I take Timothy from him. "Here, let me." I cradle the baby against my chest, rocking him gently. "You just have to be firm with them."
Kyler snorts, finally getting Damon's arms through the sleeves. "Says the woman who cried when we gave them their first haircut."
I gasp, mock-offended. "I did not cry."
Kieran smirks, his hand sliding around my waist. "You totally cried."
I elbow him lightly, but I'm smiling. "Shut up."
Kyler finishes with Damon and sets him in the crib before turning to me, his hands settling on my hips. "Admit it. You're just as whipped as we are."
I roll my eyes, but my heart swells. "Maybe a little."
Kieran's fingers tighten on my waist, his lips brushing against my temple. "Just a little?"
I lean into him, Timothy still cradled against me. "Okay, fine. A lot."
Kyler's grin is smug, but there's something softer in his gaze as he watches us. "That's what I thought."
I hand Timothy back to Kieran, my fingers lingering against his chest. "You two are too much."
"But you love us anyway," Kyler says, his voice low.
I do. More than I ever thought possible.
Kieran adjusts Timothy in his arms, the baby's tiny fingers curling around his thumb. "We should get them downstairs before your mom comes up here."
I laugh, shaking my head. "She's been coming here five times a week, but she still can be impatient."
Kyler smirks. "Can't blame her. The twins are just too cute."
I step closer, my hand resting against his chest. "And we made them."
He exhales, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "They got most of their looks from you."
Kieran shifts, his free hand sliding into mine. "Come on. Let's go show off our handiwork."
I let them lead me out of the nursery, the weight of their hands in mine, the warmth of their bodies against me, grounding me.
This—this—is everything I never knew I wanted.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.