Page 85 of Bossing My Holiday

We shift so I’m on my side, Tristan still behind me andBraxton in front. Their hands find my stomach, resting protectively over the new life we’ve created together.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Braxton asks, his voice soft with wonder.

“I don’t care,” I answer honestly, covering their hands with mine. “As long as they have your dimples and Tristan’s eyes.”

“And your fire,” Tristan adds, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Your bravery and willingness to forge your own path, regardless of what others think.”

We lie in comfortable silence, listening to each other breathe, feeling the sunlight warm our skin.

“We should pack,” Tristan eventually says, though he makes no move to get up.

“Later,” Braxton and I reply in unison, and we all laugh, the sound filling our bedroom.

Tomorrow we’ll fly to Paris, our second home, to share our news with Tristan’s family. I can’t wait to tell Grand-mère. The old spitfire will be beyond words.

I close my eyes, savoring the weight of my husbands’ hands on my stomach, the heat of their bodies surrounding mine. Two years ago, we stepped into the light, refusing to hide what had grown between us. Now, we prepare to expand our unconventional family, adding a new branch to our intertwined lives.

Different, yes. But no less valid, no less loving, no less meant to be. Because that’s exactly what we are.