Page 24 of Katie 3 (Desires #6)

Epilogue

A few years later

I walk into the kitchen with the cake balanced on one hand. The candles are blue, orange, pink, and green, and the frosting is already melting a little in the August heat.

Carter’s the first to spot me; he’s got his sleeves rolled up and is trying, and failing, to hang a string of balloons from the ceiling with tape.

Brad is behind him, wrestling our son into his favorite dinosaur t-shirt, the one with the sequined spine that flips from gold to black and back again if you run a finger up the ridge.

Henry stands by the kitchen islands, preparing some sandwiches with our baby girl strapped to his chest.

“Cake!” our son yells. He breaks free from Brad’s arms, sprints across the kitchen, and slams into my legs. I set the cake down on the counter before frosting can go flying, and he’s already climbing the cabinet handles, trying to get his face as close to the candles as possible.

“Hold on, little monster,” I say, easing him off the counter. “No blowing until everyone’s here.”

Carter abandons the balloons and swings our son up in the air, making him shriek with laughter. Brad grins at me, his hands sliding around my waist as he nips at my earlobe. “You look happy,” he murmurs.

“I am,” I say, and mean it.

I light the candles and Carter calls to Henry, who finally turns away from the sandwiches, wiping his hands on a dish towel and planting a kiss to soothe our baby as Brad and Carter hover on either side of me.

We sing. Even Henry sings, quietly. Our son is off-key and already drooling, eyes locked on the cake. I’m halfway through the second verse when Carter rests a hand on my hip and leans into my hair.

“When will we make another one?” he whispers. “I want you pregnant again. It’s been too long and you know I can’t keep my hands to myself once you’re showing.”

I nudge him with my elbow with a smile on my lips. “You’re insatiable.”

“Try me,” he whispers.

I shoot him a look, but I’m smiling so hard it aches. Brad snorts. “You’re a menace,” he says to Carter, but his hand finds mine beneath the countertop.

“Make a wish, little man,” I say.

“He’s not little,” Brad says, ruffling his son’s hair. “He’s four. That’s basically grown.”

Henry sighs, but there’s a smile on his face. “He’s still got time,” he says, eyeing me, “before Carter turns him into a delinquent.”

“Not unless Brad gets to him first,” I shoot back, and Brad throws up his hands in surrender.

“Can I blow out the candles, Mom?” our son asks, voice pitched.

“Only if you share your wish,” I say.

His eyes go serious for a moment as he stares at the burning candles, then he beams.

“I wish for… a baby brother,” he declares. “One that doesn’t steal my toys,” he mumbles and peeks at his baby sister.

Carter glows, and his gaze lingers on my belly as Henry chokes.

“Let’s finish this cake first,” I say, cutting a slice for everyone and handing out forks.

I was supposed to be finishing law school.

That’s what everyone said: you’ll go back, you’ll graduate.

And I did go back, for a little while. I took classes and aced them, slipped into the library between breastfeeding and classes, and did what was expected of me. It just never felt as real as this.

And then I got pregnant again. Which wasn’t a surprise with how much Carter was on me. But seeing the dark blue eyes our little girl has, I would say she’s Henry’s. And with our son, definitely Brad’s with that dark, thick hair and brown eyes that have this mischief in them.

Perhaps I’m wrong. I will never know, nor do I want to know. They are mine and theirs, that’s all that matters. And that’s all that matters to my men.

I finally got everything I wanted, a big, loving family. We finally sleep together in one bed after we moved and I don’t want to change a thing.

Now I wake up every morning between my men, Carter’s leg thrown over my hip, Brad’s lips pressed to my shoulder, Henry’s arm curled possessively around our baby girl.

Henry clears his throat and changes the subject. “School starts in three days,” he says, soft but direct.

“You ready for it, monster?” Brad asks, messing up our son’s thick black hair.

He nods and takes a bite from his cake. “Will you all come pick me up?”

“All of us,” Carter promises.

I wonder if the teachers will notice, if the other parents will stare. In my head, I can feel the old shame, but my heart is too full to let it in now.

I’m where I belong, with the men that belong to me.

I couldn’t ask for anything else.