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I waved at Sadie through the window, laughing when she smacked the glass in response. Duchess nudged me again, demanding attention.

“I know, I know. You’re the real baby here.”

Tonight, we’d gather with our chosen family, all of us survivors in our own ways. We’d eat too much and laugh too loud and celebrate whatever happiness Beckett had found. The twins would be passed around like the treasures they were, spoiled by too many aunts and uncles.

And tomorrow, we’d do it all again. Messy mornings and scattered Cheerios and work that filled my soul.

It wasn’t the life I’d imagined, but it was the life I’d fought for.

And it was perfect.

Bonus Epilogue

Lachlan

2.5 years later

The house was finally quiet. After three stories, two glasses of water, and one bathroom trip each, the twins were down for the night. I stood in their doorway, watching Caleb and Sadie sleep in their toddler beds, still amazed that these perfect little humans were mine.

“They asleep?” Piper’s voice came from behind me, soft and warm.

“Out cold.” I pulled their door mostly closed and turned to face my wife. “Happy anniversary.”

“Mmm.” She stepped into my arms, fitting against me like she’d been designed for this exact spot. “Two years. Can you believe it?”

“Best two years of my life.”

She tilted her head up, and I caught the look in her eyes—heat mixed with love mixed with something that made my pulse kick up. “The night’s still young, Sheriff. Got any ideas how we should celebrate?”

“A few.” I backed her against the hallway wall, caging her with my arms. “Starting with this.”

I kissed her the way I’d been wanting to all day—deep and slow and thorough. She made that little sound in the back of her throat that always drove me crazy, her fingers tangling in my hair.

“Bedroom,” she gasped when I moved to her neck. “Now.”

“Bossy.” But I was already walking her backward, my lips never leaving her skin.

We barely made it through our bedroom door before she was pulling at my shirt, her hands impatient. Two years of marriage hadn’t dimmed the heat between us—if anything, it made us burn hotter. We knew each other’s bodies now, knew exactly how to drive each other wild.

“Off,” she demanded, tugging at my belt.

“You first.” I caught her hands, spinning her to face the mirror on our closet door. “I want to unwrap my anniversary present properly.”

She leaned back against me, watching our reflection as I slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Each button revealed more skin, and I took my time, kissing every inch I exposed.

“Lachlan.” My name came out as a plea when I finally pushed the fabric off her shoulders.

“What’s the rush?” I unhooked her bra with practiced ease, watching her eyes flutter closed in the mirror as my hands covered her breasts. “We’ve got all night.”

“Do we, though?” She pressed back against me, and I bit back a groan at the friction.

“Because I seem to remember two little alarm clocks that go off around six a.m., regardless of how late their parents stayed up.”

Fair point. But I wasn’t ready to rush this. Not tonight.

I turned her to face me, walking her backward toward our bed. “Then we better make it count.”

Her knees hit the mattress and she sat, looking up at me with those eyes that still knocked me sideways. I stood between her legs, cupping her face.