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EPILOGUE

EMILY

One Year Later

“God, could you get any sexier?” I just woke up from a nap, long overdue at that.

I’d like to say that I am the mom who has her shit together, cleans up while our baby is asleep.

That was my goal, but when your little bundle of joy has his days and nights confused, you learn to sleep when he sleeps.

Yep, we have a little boy, only a few months old, completely and utterly perfect.

Did I mention that Colby looks exactly like Tate?

His mom and my mom brought out the pictures of us when we were newborns.

There’s no denying that he is his father from head to toe.

It’ll be fun to see whose personality he’s more like, though with any luck, it’ll be Tate’s.

God, I can’t even imagine two of us running around.

“Pretty sure that’s all you, babe,” Tate replies softly, so as not to wake the sleeping bundle of joy that’s currently on his bare chest. Colby himself is naked, minus the diaper on his small booty.

“What have you and Colby been up to while I napped?” I sit in the chair opposite of Tate so I can look at my two men who mean so freaking much to me. I never knew you could love someone who wasn’t even born yet, until it happened to me.

“Little dude here decided it would be fun to pee all over dad when I changed his diaper, which caused me to laugh and him to wake up crankier than ever. I got him cleaned up, then he was ready to eat. We took care of that, then he shit in his diaper. I never realized how much he hates to be in a dirty diaper, until Colby decides he’s done.

That was about twenty minutes ago, and now he’s napping.

” I wanted to nurse our son so badly; it just wasn’t in the cards for me.

Mastitis made it near impossible even if I pumped; add to it that Colby was tongue tied at the hospital, something that sent me spiraling with worry when they had to a frenotomy, a small surgical procedure, but I swear the waterworks along with the worry had me turning into a puddle.

Worrying along with crying is not a great look when you’re only a day after birth, dealing with a period that’s built up for nine months as well as milk trying to come in.

So, yeah, that was an experience. We switched to formula almost instantly.

I’m not saying it’s a bad thing; I just wanted to be able to give him milk from my body, but it didn’t happen, and that’s okay.

“Oh God, again? I swear we’ll eventually get the hang of this thing.

Mom mentioned girls don’t do that, so I guess that’s a male thing,” I tease playfully, knowing just what it feels like to be peed and pooped on already.

The pee more times than I’d like to admit; the poop situation only happened once.

“Yep, he’s got great aim. Going to have to watch him with the girls when he gets older.” I tip my head back, rolling my eyes. There’s no way I’ll ever be prepared for that or ready to even think about it.

“Shut up, Tate, or that thought of trying again in a year or two absolutely will not happen.” Who am I kidding?

It will happen. Not only that, it’s not like we can keep our hands off each other.

And condoms? Those are a thing of the past, which means it was solely up to me, and I chose to do something that was guaranteed birth control.

I opted for the one that gets implanted into your arm.

Which is a good thing because neither of us could keep our hands off one another the damn six weeks the doctor says you need to recover.

I’m pretty sure we didn’t even make it until I was done with that bitch of a period you go through.

The second it was lighter, it was me initiating it in the shower and reaping the rewards.

“Give it another six months. Bet you’ll be ready to go to the doctor to get that stupid thing out of your arm.” Tate was wholly against birth control, ready to play Russian roulette in the baby-making department, apparently. No way. I wanted to enjoy our moments with Colby for the time being.

“We’ll see.” I don’t tell him I’m already regretting it three months later.

Thankfully, my doctor knows me well enough to know I’ll be the one calling in the next few months, caving because even with the sporadic sickness I had while pregnant, I still thoroughly enjoyed my time carrying Colby inside me.

“Yeah, I just bet. You want to take little dude? I did a quick cleanup. It’s not cutting it, though. I’m going to take a quick shower.” An idea forms in my head, one that involves the two of us wet, needy, and him taking me up against the shower wall.

“I have a better idea. How about you put Colby in the bassinet, and I’ll meet you there?

” I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Tate move that fast before, gentle in the way he’s rushing since Colby is in his arms, yet probably as excited as I am to join him.

Oh yeah, our life couldn’t be any more amazing.

So, we’re not completely traditional, but it works for us, and I’ve never been happier than I am right now.