Page 49 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

"You do realize no one's getting within ten feet of him with you playing guard dog," she says, settling onto the couch with Summit against her chest. "You nearly broke Kieran's wrist when he tried to adjust the blanket."

"He didn't use sanitizer," I defend, eyeing everyone like they're walking petri dishes. "That’s not my fault."

Clover bounces Noble on her hip, heading our way. "Let me see my nephew," she demands, grinning. "I've been good for a whole ten minutes."

"Hands," I bark.

She rolls her eyes but uses the sanitizer I've strategically placed on every flat surface. "Happy now, psycho?"

"Getting there." I grudgingly step aside, allowing her closer to my wife and son.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," Clover breathes, perching beside Wren. Noble stares down at his cousin, but who knows what he’s thinking. "Look, Noble. This is your baby cousin."

Noble reaches out, and I tense, ready to intercept the grabby little hand, but Clover catches it. "Gentle, remember? Like with kitties."

Wren looks up at me, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Relax, Beanie Boy. He's fine."

"I know he's fine," I growl. "Because I'll accept nothing less."

Banks appears, pressing a beer into my hand. "Drink this. You look ready to throw someone through a window."

I take a long pull, the familiar taste of my own brew steadying me slightly. It's Timber's summer wheat—light, crisp, exactly what I needed.

"How's she really doing?" Banks asks quietly, nodding toward Wren, who's showing Summit off like he's the eighth wonder of the world.

Because he is.

"Stubborn as hell," I answer. "Won't take her pain meds because they make her drowsy and she 'doesn't want to miss anything.' Gets up with him every night despite having her stomach sliced open three days ago."

"So... like Clover after Noble was born."

"Pretty much."

Banks claps my shoulder. "Good luck, man. The first few months are brutal. It gets easier, though."

"When? Because I haven't slept more than two hours straight since he showed up."

"Somewhere around the eighteen-year mark, I hear."

I snort, taking another swig. Reed makes his way over to join our little group, eyeing Summit even though he's off the clock. It's reassuring, having him here. Besides Wren, he's the only person I'd trust with my kid.

"Has everyone washed their hands?" I call out, unable to stop myself.

The room erupts in groans.

"Yes, Dad," Navy calls back. "We've all had our flu shots and none of us has licked any door handles recently."

"Hilarious."

"Seriously, though," Reed says, crouching next to Wren to get a better look at Summit. "He's doing great. Strong vitals, good weight gain." He glances up at me with that smirk I want to punch off his face. "Almost like you didn't need to check his breathing every twenty minutes."

"I didn't—" I start to argue, then stop. Because yeah, I absolutely did that. "Whatever. Can't be too careful."

Wren catches my eye, fighting a smile. "Why don't you show Reed the nursery? Maybe get everyone out of here for a bit so this little guy can eat without an audience."

I'm at her side in two steps. "You good? Need anything?"

"Just some space.”

"Come on," I tell the group, reluctant to leave but knowing Wren needs the break. "Quick tour, then we're kicking you all out."

I lead them down the hall to what used to be my office.

Now it's all Summit's. The mountain mural I painted takes up one wall, with the pine tree shelves I built loaded with all the stuff people kept giving us.

The crib I designed stands opposite, with the mobile of stars and mountains hanging above it.

"Dude," Banks whistles. "You built all this?"

"Most of it." I try to sound casual, but the pride comes through anyway. "I had to do something with all that nervous energy."

Navy runs her hand over the changing table, eyebrows raised. "This is some serious nesting, James. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Neither did I." It's true. Never thought I'd be the guy obsessing over crib safety ratings or non-toxic paint. Yet I did it, building the furniture myself because it needed to be perfect.

While everyone pokes around, I notice Reed and Navy standing off by themselves, heads close together in what looks like a heated argument in whispers.

"What's with them?" I ask Banks.

He follows my gaze and smirks. "No idea, but they've been like that all week. Ever since Navy mentioned she's donating eggs for her sister's IVF treatment."

"And Reed's involved because...?"

"He's the doctor handling the procedure. They've got ‘differing opinions’ on the pre-donation protocol."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're using air quotes, which means there's more to the story."

"There's definitely more." Banks grins. "You should’ve seen them at dinner last night. It was intense.”

Before I can dig deeper, Kieran calls out, "Did you seriously make a poop emergency checklist and laminate it?" he asks, holding up the color-coded card.

"Ranked by disaster level, with response protocols," I say, not giving a shit what they think. "I got tired of Wren laughing at me when I'd panic over normal baby shit. Literally. The first one is black, dude. It’s not right."

Everyone laughs, and I use the distraction to slip out. I find Wren exactly where I left her, but now Summit's attached to her breast, working on his lunch.

"They having fun with the tour?" she asks without looking up.

"Yeah." I drop down beside her, arm going around her shoulders and my body relaxing a little. "Kieran found the laminated list.”

"You're ridiculous."

"It's practical."

She leans into me, warm and soft. "How much longer until we can kick them out?"

"Another twenty minutes, tops. Then we claim exhaustion."

"It’s not a lie. I'm running on fumes here."

I press my lips to her temple. "As soon as he’s done, you're napping while I take him."

"Bold assumption that I can sleep on command."

"Wren. You passed out mid-sentence last night telling me about Kieran's new filing system."

"That's because his filing system is boring as hell." But she smiles, eyes already drooping. "Fine. I’ll take a quick nap. Wake me if he needs anything."

"Deal."

I look down at our son, still nursing, his tiny hand pressed against Wren's breast. Something hits me square in the chest - this feeling I can't put words to. Love, fear, pride, exhaustion - all of it mixing together into something too big to contain.

I never thought I'd have this. Never thought I deserved it. But here we are, and somehow it feels right in a way nothing else ever has.

"To Summit William James," I whisper, holding up my beer bottle in the dim light of our kitchen. "The best mistake we ever made."

It's three in the morning, and we've just finished another middle-of-the-night feeding session. It’s good to see some things never change.

Summit’s back asleep in his bassinet beside our bed, and I've convinced Wren to join me in the kitchen for her first official post-baby beer—my special Dawn Breaker IPA, brewed specifically for our son's birth.

Wren raises her own bottle, clinking it against mine. "To our tiny terror. May he someday sleep through the night."

We both drink, and I watch her face as she tastes the beer for the first time in months. Her eyes widen, then close in as she moans in appreciation.

I ignore the way my dick perks up at the sound.

"Holy shit, Kasen," she says when she opens them again. "This is... incredible."

Pride surges through me. She always was my worst critic. "Yeah? Not too hoppy?"

"It's perfect. Balanced, complex, with just the right finish." She takes another sip. "Best thing you've ever brewed."

Coming from her, that's high praise. Wren doesn't hand out compliments easily, especially not about beer.

"Well, I had good inspiration." I lean against the counter, watching her in the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. Even exhausted, hair piled in a messy bun, wearing one of my old t-shirts and sleep shorts, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "You gonna pump and dump after this?"

She makes a face. "Unfortunately. Seems like such a waste of good breast milk."

"I could help with that." The words are out before I can stop them.

She nearly chokes on her beer. "Excuse me?"

Heat creeps up my neck, but I don't back down. Nah, I own that shit. "Instead of pumping and dumping. I could help you out."

Her eyes go dark, and I know she understands exactly what I'm suggesting. "Are you offering what I think you're offering, James?"

“Yeah. I am.”

"You know that's not how it works, right?" She's fighting a smile, cheeks flushed. "Pumping and dumping is just to relieve pressure until the alcohol leaves my system naturally. It's not like you'd be removing the alcohol."

"Fine, ruin my fantasy with your logic." I move closer, trapping her against the counter. And yep, my dick’s fully hard between us. "But you can't tell me it wouldn't be more fun than that pump."

"Not even in the top ten worst ideas you've had." Her hand lands on my chest, but she doesn't push me away. "But you'll have to wait a few more weeks. Doctor's orders."

"I can be patient." I dip my head, my lips brushing against her ear. "Doesn't mean I can't think about it, though."

She sucks in a breath, fingers curling into my shirt. "You're dangerous when you talk like that."

"Only for you, Pink." I grin against her skin. "And maybe your resolve."

She leans into me, head against my shoulder. "I've clearly lost my mind since having your kid."

We stand like that for a while, just holding each other in the quiet kitchen, drinking our beer in companionable silence.

"Did you ever think we'd end up here?" she asks eventually, her voice soft.

"Honestly? No. I spent most of the last couple of years trying to figure out how to beat you, not how to marry you and have a kid."

She chuckles. "From enemies to co-parents in under a year. We're either insane or stupid."

"Maybe both." I take another pull of my beer. "Still wouldn't change a thing."

"No?" She pulls back, eyebrow raised. "Not even when I told that bar your flagship tasted like 'someone dumped Pine-Sol in last week’s malt water'?"

"Not even that." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "Nobody else would've said it to my face. You made me completely rework the recipe."

"And you made me a better person." She says it so simply, but I know what it costs her to admit it. "Less defensive. More willing to trust."

"I think that was all you, Pink. I just got lucky enough to be around when it happened."

She shakes her head. "No. It was you." Her hand comes up to cup my face. "It was always you."

I lean down to kiss her, tasting beer and something uniquely her. When we break apart, she's smiling that smile that's just for me—the one that reaches her eyes and crinkles at the corners.

"We should try to get some sleep," she says, stifling a yawn. "He'll be up again in two hours."

"Probably." I finish my beer, then take her bottle and set them both in the recycling bin. "But it's worth it."

She takes my hand, leading me back toward our bedroom. "Yeah," she says softly. "It really is."

As I follow her down the hallway, I think about how far we've come. We pause at Summit's bassinet, both of us leaning over to check on him. He's sleeping peacefully, one tiny fist pressed against his cheek, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"He has your nose," Wren whispers.

"And your mouth." I wrap my arm around her waist, careful of her still-healing incision. "Poor kid."

"Hey, screw you." But she just shoulder checks me with a smirk.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "Get some sleep. I'll take the next feeding."

"Wake me if?—"

"I will." I guide her to the bed, pulling back the covers. "Now sleep, woman."

She rolls her eyes but climbs in, already half-asleep before her head hits the pillow. I stand there for a minute, watching my wife and son, this family I never knew I wanted until suddenly it was everything.

Somewhere along the way, between that first morning in Vegas and now, something shifted. What started as a drunken mistake transformed into the most important thing in my life.

And as I slide into bed beside Wren, her body automatically curling into mine even in sleep, I realize that some mistakes aren't mistakes at all.

They're just the universe's way of giving you exactly what you need, whether you know it or not.

The End